December Rose

Late bloom. Born in the creeping night, you don’t yearn for light like a blossom grown in summer. Stretch your stem. Reach for the star who watched you form. Let the moon caress your velvet cheek as you peek from the birthing heart.  Shine in the growing dark. Your sisters watch through sleepy eyes, waiting for their favored time of warm days and summer’s song.

Rosebuds in my front lawn, days before the first winter storm will strike with ice and dangerous temperatures