"I have never seen the star jasmine.
as in this early spring:
it buds fiercely against the tough boughs.
Even withered, it clings to them,
as if craving
one last sip of sap.
So certain old people are,
with their eyes still as bright as stars;
their gnarled fingers still milking
from the smallest of pleasures."
(Tanya Mendonsa in 'The Dreaming House,' p. 117 Harper)