The Rose

For Sunday Muse BlogSpot #71.


The Rose
“How much has to be explored and discarded before reaching the naked flesh of feeling.” Claude Debussy

She flies through the air like a rose
flung to a conquering hero or
into a bullfighting ring
or into the garbage bin at the curb
when the love has gone sour.
Off to the landfill or maybe,
plucked from the top by
someone with an eye for discarded beauty.

夏至 (Geshi, Summer Solstice)


Rosebud solstice starts

To bloom.  Slowly unfolding

Petal by petal

Then quickening to fullblown

Glory:   golden heart open 

Fragrant sun lights the

Day, zenith hovers peaks, a

Petal drops.  Fragrance fades

Slowly.   Heart begins to dim.

 Rose droops, darkness falls, day ends.

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