:: a sweetness so palpable::

" I have found myself thinking of summer fields.

Fields full of flowers - poppies or lupines.

Or, here, fields where the roses hook into the dunes,

and their increase is manifold.

All summer they are red and pink and white tents

of softness and nectar,

which wafts and hangs everywhere -

a sweetness so palpable and excessive that, before it,

I'm struck, I'm taken, I'm conquered;

I'm washed into it,

as though it was a river,

full of dreaming and idleness.

... I am restless no more;

I am replete, supine, finished,

filled to the last edges

with an immobilizing happiness."

{Mary Oliver : Upstream}