by M. Renee Taylor
My roses grow lush this year.
Soaking rain and warm days abound,
But with too little sun I fear.
Still, their many blooms astound.
Their gentle glow lightens any despair,
From the chaos filled outer world.
Sweet, spicy, fruity and rose scented air,
As I gaze at solid, picoteed or swirled.
Snipping spent blooms in morning light,
Bright colors or blushing off-white,
Soft or deep tones, a cheering sight.
Ovoid, pointed or urn-shaped, all delight.
Be their form classic rose or ruffled single,
In my enchanted garden, diversity is prized.
Proud, generous and free spirited bushes mingle,
Yearning climbers to smug minis are organized.
But after the thrill of an abundant first flush,
How to keep them from succumbing,
As pelting rains posies bend and crush?
Despite this and biting bugs, more are forthcoming!
My thorny ones’ crusty canes have a lesson to heed,
Beneath their fabled beauty’s joy and peace.
More often I prune and feed, spray and weed.
In our symbiosis, life perils we appease.
For if humans, pets or roses your life enhance,
Take them as is, tend their needs and together advance.