Dan Guenther: To the Orchid Hunter

To the Orchid Hunter

On your journey to view the wax lip orchids

you came upon a unique landscape

in the semidarkness of a glade,

one where the medicinal value of the rarest flowers

had yet to be determined.

From a gully strewn with empty bottles of Flag Ale,

a hybrid, still unknown to science,

rose as pale as the lunar orb;

and you were gratified you left behind that old life,

summoning the courage to search for what you had found.

For a time you sat in the serenity of a windless quiet,

high on the sudden rush of your unexpected find,

meditating on your own imperfect story,

while within the hollow sanctum of a giant gum

the bush bees practised their alchemy.

Among the clusters of ferns arching through the shade

you watched a pair of foxes rendezvous,

the eyes of the bold vixen

staring back at you

as they twisted together in a feral stink.

And when the mutterings of the night insects began

you asked yourself if you were turned inside out

with ambition,

or if you still wanted anonymity,

knowing life does not reward those who cower in the dark.

Dan Guenther