The visitor arrived suddenly, in a rush of pink.
A deep, dark, pink bud on the
Upper-most branch.
The breeze waves bud at
precarious angle.
Rosebud is dewdrop that decided against rolling
off the leaves, took up shop,
Solidified. Now it has become a cocoon,
layer upon layer,
layer upon layer,
layer upon layer,
of condensed petal,
Huddled in tight embrace, biding time.
Another morning: the bud has opened into lips
pursed to kiss the morning air.
The morning next: an outburst welcomes the sun.
But rains come
heavy and relentless,
day long.
The rose
explodes – only the center remains, and
soft, scattered petals martyr themselves on the soil.
Plant looks as it did before: its serpentine stem slowly
revives and stands upright enough, and the soil?
ever-present firm silent strength
Paradise Prose Blog 