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
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