Letter to dead roses

Dear Dead Roses,


Don't dance just yet
This warmth and sheen of gold
is just false spring
in the middle of winter season

Shake off those dead fur  
and your thorns-
they have lost their sting-

Don't fidget and sigh
spring will be here soon
garnishing green thumbs 
and roaring with the ocean
of rain   

Forget your old lovers,
and burrow deep beneath your darkness -
your seeds are counting bees 
your roots are raking new soil

Pure beauty
you are, flowering in sun's abundance

Sleep well in the perfume of snow.



Your Neighbors,

Quarreling Squirrels


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - We are writing letters today.  MTB is hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Pub doors open at 3 pm.  Thanks for the visit.