The banks of the stream are filled with rose hips,
a blossom with tiny delicate tips.
Shrubby, probably a rose of Sharon,
white blossoms fill the bushy bank thereon.
After cutting the lawn, I trim the brush,
culling weeds and vines away from the bush.
Yielding fragrant flowers and testy bees.
In the evening deer nose around the trees.
The treasured petals form a thoroughfare
grown on prickly stems designed to ensnare.
Each budding blossom, like a cherubim,
with pollen nectar for a diadem.