DECEMBER ROSES
I
How peaceful can coexistence be?
Chilling the blush of the rose
Drawing faint heat from its cheeks
The crystalline coldness melts
Unique designs are lost.
This trinity is miracle enough
Beetle, Bud, Ice.
What god would intervene?
This the majestic cruel purpose?
II
Snowing again
I trudge across our street
To visit the rosebud
How has its fairness fared through the icy night?
Unwithered!
Half hidden now, bowed, bearing its
wintry yoke
wintry yoke
Yet blushing still –
And there
A sign of industry – geometry
A gossamer glint
A single thread
Taut at a logical angle.
And yes the tiny spider, black
Nestles in the jewelled white and waits.
Silence.
Walking on; dark tyre tracks on the
further road
further road
Traffic cautious, labouring.
_______________
He Missed The Bus
As usual (or as often as not) turning the corner
I look across the Green – snow white today – to see
Yes, the 328, my bus
Lumbering to the stop
A sprinter might catch it
Or on a good day
A dash and a hop and I would
But this morning …
It’ll do me good, the exercise – cardiovascular
The plane trees, noble, oh spectacular!
Smoky in swirls of snow
Tower, stand, as I go
Crunching, slipping
Smiling at strangers in
Our common plight
Traversing this world of white.
Missing the bus has been a habit.
I’m good at making a virtue of it.
I look across the Green – snow white today – to see
Yes, the 328, my bus
Lumbering to the stop
A sprinter might catch it
Or on a good day
A dash and a hop and I would
But this morning …
It’ll do me good, the exercise – cardiovascular
The plane trees, noble, oh spectacular!
Smoky in swirls of snow
Tower, stand, as I go
Crunching, slipping
Smiling at strangers in
Our common plight
Traversing this world of white.
Missing the bus has been a habit.
I’m good at making a virtue of it.
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