not the long-stemmed kind you buy in the store,
but the kind that thrives on neglect,
thrives despite drought, despite desolation,
grows rambunctious despite crummy soil,
the wild roses you find as you walk
through the edges of desert, find them not by sight
but because of the siren song of their scent—
pink and stirring and plucky.
I am famished for beauty today,
the kind that survives
when the world is hostile,
the kind that arrives above thorns,
living books of a thousand petals unfolding,
a wild beauty almost impossible to eradicate,
the kind that sends acres of runners and roots.
I believe in such beauty. It’s found me before.
You must be swimming in snow!,
sweet fey, it¹s been raining and raining the weirdest winter. Unfortunately, your phrasing is totally correct! Swimming! In what could be/almost is snow
Watch my TEDx talk The Art of Changing Metaphors: TEDX Rosemerry Trommer
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer 970-729-1838 wordwoman.com
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Thursday, January 12, 2017 at 7:12 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “This Day Could Use More Roses,”
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