Monday, February 1, 2016

January Roses

Seeing roses,
Fragrant, pink,
In January, late,

Fools me
Into thinking
This is spring.

I’m already
So inclined;
The need is great.

But the forecast
Calls for snow,

To fragile petals,
Sweet scents,

So I stand behind
The cool panes
Gazing at the blooms,

Their twined stems
Miracles of grace
And green,

Living in the now,
Finding life
Where life is seen.

©2016 John I. Blair

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