The Rose Hangs On

Thirty degrees and heavy frost Of last night, killed the Impatiens The running rose blooms and buds frozen The Ginko is almost naked nearly all leaves gone Only a few yellow strands Left on the chilled branches The white hoar's frost excentuates Gold beneath the mostly barren limbs Air is frozen as breathe into lungs Comes out as foggy drift Too cold to linger for the warmth Of the inside seems so appealing Responsiblity calls for today Is celebration Sunday at church There will be dinner after service Then an extra choir practice It was a hectic day but refreshing In its own way, renewed friendships Sharing a meal with church family Seeing people enjoy what I prepared Went out to see the damage to plants From the first hard frost of the season Most tender shoot are totally gone It is amazing though the rose hangs on