September 7th

as the skies grew darker with the approaching storm
i was walking past an upstairs window
that looks out over the arch leading to the garden
and a flash of bright-pink-white caught my eye:
a clutch of three, just-opened roses sat perched
on the very topmost branch.
i would not have seen them if i had been
standing in the garden, they were reaching so high
and far above the arch.

i was tempted to take a step ladder outside
and cut them before the storm
but i decided that i didn't want to bring them indoors
because they would have become
simply
three of the last roses
in a bud vase
in the house.

i chose to leave them be
there where they could be seen only
from a bird's eye view
and trust that they could
in their freshness
weather the storm.

gratefully, Ernesto petered out by the time he arrived
and the three have enjoyed a lovely reign.

the photograph from a previous year

Comments

[Blue]

A beautiful poem, with a beautiful photograph...perfect partnership...