Holidaying with Roses
Soft roses
bloomed everywhere
in tiny gardens
every December
when I visited,
filling those little yards
with a froth of colour.
Until this last time.
Already the edges
of the roses everywhere
were singed black
from the fierce heat,
and all the blooms
were visibly smaller.
I used to walk
with my camera,
storing hundreds
of exquisite roses
in every colour,
full or budding
or newly open.
How glad I’ll be
of all those photos
in years to come,
if every summer
is full of fire,
and the roses stop
struggling to be.
Only – you can’t
smell their perfume
in a photo.
Still, by that time,
I expect I too
may have given up
struggling to be.
Meantime, what hurts
is the thought
of a gradual fading,
year by year
bushes getting spindly
flowers shrinking
retreating.
And I, gradually
losing breath,
no extra to spare
for sniffing roses
or even walking, but
anyway there’ll be so few
roses.
Shared with Writers' Pantry #10 at Poets and Storytellers United
This is gorgeously emotive, Rosemary! As a fellow lover of roses I admire the image; "little yards with a froth of colour," here's hoping they always continue to bloom. 💝💝
ReplyDeleteTender, poignant and so true Rosemary - a great write for our times...
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful image, the froth of colour in December, Rosemary, particularly after the fierce heat and singed petals. You have a wonderful collection of photographs – thank you for sharing them. It’s a shame that the perfume of roses can’t be captured too. The final stanzas are sad, but they face up to the inevitability of an end to everything.
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ReplyDeleteFlora and indeed the beauty of our natural world is a wonderful thing, and how sad that the roses are struggling as we mess up our environment.
The thought that one day we might only recognise a rose in a photograph, the rose finally losing its battle to survive, is a scary prospect. I sincerely hope it does not come to pass.
I understand your close too as the years pass me by, rushing as they do… but I would like another ten years at least…
Anna :o]
I was not thinking of ageing so much as the difficulty of breathing when the air is full of smoke. I am suggesting that this could get worse, summer by summer.
DeleteSadness fills this poem to overflowing Rosemary. Somehow being in Australia I also get that feeling that natural beauty is the least of our concern as the future seems so doubtful and tarnished.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you equate aging with the disappearance of roses due to the bushfires - not that I believe in aging; I just get less young :)
ReplyDeleteAh, it could be read that way. I really was thinking of how hard it was to breathe when we were surrounded by fires; the amount of oxygen in the air actually decreased.
DeleteSuch a thoughtful poem - The sense of fading but also holding onto to those beautiful images - even if the real roses can't be found any more
ReplyDeleteI've alway found roses to have a very potent scent, and can recall it's fragrance even from a photograph, but smoke is insidious as it gets into and onto everything and takes so long to dissipate. I think smoke can be worse than the fire as it suffocates. Your poem made me want to take a really deep breath.
ReplyDeleteA vivid poem about how recovery and fading.
ReplyDeleteAs I find myself now with winter weight and a bit out of shape, the hills take longer to walk until my spring legs come back. My wind may return by summer when the real work begins.
ReplyDeleteRosemary - I take many pictures of the flowers that we grow here at homestead or the farm. It's a welcomed sight during the dull days of rain or winter cold.
i feel a sense of urgency in the words.
ReplyDeletei hope that day will never come, when we can't smell the roses anymore.
I wonder how much we have already lost even before we know the things we are going to loose...
ReplyDeleteA summer of fire is not something any of us want to get used to.
Technology is a blessing in this case, we can always rely on memory abd imigination for the fragrance of those roses
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday
Much❤love
Memories are great, but... in the end, that is all they are memories--and yes, sometimes that thought really squeezes a heart.
ReplyDeleteYour words brought a tear, Rosemary. The fires of this summer have obviously left emotional scars and lingering pain and despondency. Hopefully nature will be kind and the roses will be resilient.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many signs of the harm we are doing to the world, especially to those of us who were in tune with the local cycles. There are no devastating fires in Pennsylvania (thank goodness) but the shifts from what I had known in years past always unsettles me.
ReplyDeleteI like how you tied both life spans together...your and that of roses. Alas, fading comes to all of us- without exception. Love the way you tell it here.
ReplyDeleteIt is essentially human to keep struggling and that is what makes your poem so much more poignant. When do we give up? When do we give in to things we cannot control? Who will account for lost fragrances?
ReplyDeleteI too find myself thinking about losing what was normal for us, like roses. And how can they miss what they do not know?
ReplyDeleteI love that blue house and the lovely roses. This summer was a nightmare...I still find myself looking at the air quality guide daily. Who wouldn't love roses ?We must create rose gardens of the mind. Bev will loan you her red ruby shoes and you can spend next summer anywhere you want:)
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