Rose Wind

Winds whips us

Like chastised school children

Red-faced, we breath deep cold Spring’s air.

Before the next gust catches us unawares,

We run. Shoes tumble, dog paws gallop

Over hill and grass and weeds.

Up the slope, up toward yellow house,

Up toward bushes, Up toward last year’s roses

There, standing erect with tight heads,

An orange bloom clinging tightly to its petals,

A miser of sorts unwilling to part

With her new spring clothing.

For a moment, we pause

Until the next burst of wind

Blows us away.


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One thought on “Rose Wind

  1. Love the art you’ve created here.  It reminds me on my grandmother’s old rose garden.  Her home was destroyed by a tornado last year.  I wonder if the roses still stand.

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