A Morning For Roses

It’s strange to meet November wearing
September’s formal dresses
Of liquid gold maples, rusty oaks and 70 degree days.
I don’t complain.
Who knows why?
Cycles of nature we don’t understand?
Global climate change forced by humans?
At any rate my garden explodes in rose blooms
– one particular variety so fragrant it’s almost obscene.
I only take a moment to capture
The fire
The fuchsia
The baby pink and
The scarlet
Before returning to the comfort of
The warm morning sun
On my white washed porch
To spend time with Mary.
HS 11-6-2016
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Rosebud Cottage
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