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My rose bushes are lusher than ever this year.
For soaking rain and warm days abound,
Though with too little sun I fear.
Still, they give me many blooms that astound.

Their gentle glow lightens any despair, 
On return from the chaos filled outer world. 
Sweet, spicy, fruity and musky rose scents fill the air.
As I gaze upon their colors  - solid, picoteed or swirled.

Passing among them, snipping spent blooms in morning light,
Butter yellow, flashy pink, raspberry red and blushing off white,
Pale peach, bright orange and deep purple are a cheering sight.
Their varied forms - ovoid, pointed or urn shaped, all delight.

Be its shape classic rose, doubled daisy, peony or begonia,
In my enchanted garden, neighborly diversity is prized.
Proud hybrid teas, generous grandiflora, and free spirited floribunda,
Yearning climbers, and compact, smug minis are organized.

But after the thrill of their abundant first flush,
How do I keep my many roses from succumbing,
As pelting rains just opened posies bend and crush?
Yet, despite heat, humidity and bugs, more are forthcoming!

My thorny ones with their crusty hard canes, have a lesson to heed,
Under their fabled beauty that brings me such joy and peace.
More dutiful a rosarian, I prune and feed, spray and weed.
In our symbiosis, our stamina increases and life’s perils we appease.

For be it humans, pets or roses, the secret, if your life they enhance,
Is take them as they are, tend their needs and the common cause advance.

M. Renee Taylor
7/2/13

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