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12/03/2004: "Roses In December"

I remember the roses of times past. In September, I went with seven roses and put them in a boot. In November, I went with four roses and put them beside a white stone. I have plucked the thorn from the lion's paw, and been devoured. I took the petals and put them in a tea bowl. In the spring, I took a small bush and dug a hole. I dropped it in, and I pressed the dirt around. It did not wither, it grew and it bloomed. And the flowers faded and the sun set and the days grew cold and short and brutish. the blossoms were gon and I found only thorns. And then, today, the frigid plant upheld before my eyes one last pink rosebud.