Explore with me the rows and rows of roses.

Their faces turned toward the sun

Blossoms so tiny you could cradle the entire

Bush in the palm of your hand.

Others the size of dinner plates,

So heavy the stalks bend,

Turning their centers toward the ground.

Life-giving ground.

Nutrients galore.

Water drawn out of hidden wells.

Come with me to visit the roses

The shy ones, colors so feint it’s hard to

Distinguish where one ends and the next begins.

The vibrant ones

That scream, look at me, look at me,

And you do.

They have wonderful stories,

The ancient ones, the ones whose roots

Go back millennium.

I want to sit at their feet and listen.

Listen to tales of woe, of joy,

Of growth, of success

Allow them to fill my soul with joy.

An ever-abundant happiness

That will last for weeks, months, years.

They aren’t modest at all.

They flash their colors to the world

Inviting all to stop, stare, breathe in their heady scent.

Roses follow the sun. Opening at dawn,

Closing at sunset, rejoicing during the day.

I want to emulate them. Perhaps I do.