But there it was. There it is. A rose. Defiance and beauty to capture life, and my eye. One last rose pushing on and telling one last tale of birth amongst the dying, and the legacy of simply being.
legacy
it bore frost in early morning
gathered what little sunlight
diminished days gave for free
and even in a night of November
red life burns and fragrance
twinkles in the eye of this beholder;
the rose, the rose
wanting its season
unfolding to defy the turnings of
hours, weeks, and expectations;
the rose in a night of November
carries on with living alone in
darkness and pleased to
be so.
Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker
Photo©2011 R. Burnett Baker
Photo taken at home by R. Baker, November 7, 2011.
rick i was riding my bike the other day through the countryside and i saw wayyyy up high two perfectly red apples all on their own. sisters to your rose which you so beautifully share through the photograph and most especially, your words!! steven
ReplyDeleteThank you Steven...The rose bushes around my tiny deck were planted by the long time owners of the house. This summer they just grew and bloomed on their own, with no help from me! Beautiful roses for most of the season. Perhaps next spring I should learn to nurture them a bit and see what happens!
ReplyDeleterick
Your poem captures the essence of the lone rose... it is beautifully stated & the rose well captured for posterity.
ReplyDelete