Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Silences of the Moon
Early in the morning I saw the pigeons outward bound from the opposite wood, with the sunlight under their wings, for the sun had only just risen. Three hours later I saw the first butterfly; it was a common white one, but it stayed with me for ten minutes and inspected every flower. Together we made the round of all my beds, stopping to chat with the glad-faced occupants of each, like any couple of district visitors. The rosebuds under the window are still unopened; they are like white hands folded in prayer. In the corner by the door stand the tulips, great dames of a magnificence grander than the pomp of Versailles - the staunch upholders of the garden's dying aristocracy. These strange flowers seem to have all the scornful pride of an Atalanta without a huntress's grace of bearing; but they have most of the feminine virtues - beauty (both of form and colour), purity, pride, reserve.
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