From the tall pavilion the guests have all departed;
In the little garden flowers helter-skelter fly.
They fall at random on the winding path,
And travel far, setting off the setting sun.
Heartbroken, I cannot bear to sweep them away;
Gazing hard, I watch them till few are left.
Their fragrant heart, following spring, dies;
What they have earned are tears that wet one’s clothes.
translated by James J. Y. Liu
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Leonard Durso 
I have just been introduced to Mary Oliver’s poems and the way she speaks to birds and trees and the water. And here we are talking to the flowers. I am newly fascinated.
She’s very good. I don’t have a bok of hers here but among many others in storage in NY. Annie Dillard also has some nice pieces on nature, too, but not exclusively that. Do you know her book The Writing Life?
No. I will look for it