©sk/08

Before The First Frost
11/17/08

The rose bush produced one final beauty,
fighting against time.
I cut it. Brazenly, with a scissors
from the desk.
Tiny thorns tried to fight back, and
its thin stem maintained a defiant posture.

What makes a rose still want grow in November?
Do roses fear dying?
It was standing tall, proud, alone,
still spunky from summer,
maybe a teenager,
peachy, against crisp brown,
smelling of citrus and attar.
It missed curfew; it mocked the season.

It’s supposed to get quite cold on Wednesday,
the first frost:
I scurried around bringing in what I could.
Blooming geraniums, still flowering,
leaves caught in their hair.
A potted pepper plant with a last hanger-on,
green, compact, and shiny.

Holding fast.

Where could I put them all?

I picked the last of the cherry tomatoes.
I don’t have the heart
to pluck out the green stems
of soon to die plants.
I just
don’t
have
the heart.

And now the roses
will go to sleep.

reply starfishred wrote on Nov 17, ’08 oh how lovely ‘maybe a teenager’ love that lovely pictures

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 starfishred said oh how lovely ‘maybe a teenager’ love that lovely pictures Thanks, Heidi. Who would think I’d be picking peppers and roses in mid-November?

reply mntsinger wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Ahh sue that was wonderful 🙂  yes we have a few hanging on roses as well 🙂

reply sweetpotatoqueen wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Aren’t roses the most amazing flowers? In the spring they scrurry with new growth from the thorny stems to burst into the spring air then hang on with all their might till winter puts them to sleep for a good rest. I always enjoy your narrative style of poetry. I felt like I am living a parallel gardeners life with this writing as I am also trying to get the plants ready for winter weather. Like yourself,I always am sad to see the plants go dormant for the winter ahead. This was just lovely!

reply dianahopeless wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Loved it! Another avid gardener here, scurrying to delay the inevitable. lol Nice photos Sue.

reply billatplay wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Never mind the poem look at the words. A combination of human feeling and tenderness. You crafty blogger. You are not tough at all. lol Ooch! Didn’t mean it.

reply lauritasita wrote on Nov 18, ’08, edited on Nov 18, ’08 Your beautiful poem reminds me of one of the Robert Frost poems I posted a couple of weeks ago called, “A Late Walk” where he mentions one last remaining flower (in this case it was an aster flower, rather than a rose) that he picks in late autumn, as the last flower before the approaching winter: “I end not far from my going forth     By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower   To carry again to you.” ~ A Late Walk by Robert Frost

reply strongwilledwoman wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Awesome, and so true in every aspect.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Siana, isn’t it amazing? My neighbor has a lonely yellow rose. Sniff, it will be frozen tomorrow. Thank you.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Sweetie, they do amaze me! My neighbor keeps a rosebush in a pot on her south-facing porch all winter. It is ready to bloom again in the spring. I don’t have the luck. I manage to keep my mini-potted roses green through the winter and in the spring they die. Thank you for the lovely comment as always!

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 oh that inevitable! And the inevitable is that we, too, go dormant. Thanks, Diana.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 You know, Bill, writing is a weird thing for me. I am not one of those people who endlessly crank ’em out. I’ve been drowning in the lack of inspiration, not getting far getting my book organized, feeling glum about that. Then, this little garden interplay inspired me yesterday and the post was going to be just photos with a little lead-in. When I looked at what I had just written, the poem was peeking out. A lesson I learned in a poetry class: start with a paragraph; it can be broken up into verse. Once I got started, I ran with it. Thanks Bill. Maybe roses DO have feelings. They certainly proved to be rebellious, as Sweetie sees, too.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Thanks, sis. It’s been a while since I have been inspired. I guess nature got me, as it gets us all. It got to Frost, too. And speaking of frost, I am not looking forward to it later.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Hi, B~ Thank you, I am grateful.

reply lauritasita wrote on Nov 18, ’08 It was a beautiful poem. Is this a new one ? I don’t remember it.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 lauritasita said It was a beautiful poem. Is this a new one ? I don’t remember it.  Just wrote it yesterday, and it evolved from a short paragraph introducing the photos.

reply nomadtraveller wrote on Nov 18, ’08 I took pics of the leaves and flowers here on a sunny day last week.  They’re all gone now!

reply forgetmenot525 wrote on Nov 18, ’08 oh dear Sue now I feel guilty, next weekend temperatures drop below freezing, high winds will be every where and  lashing rain will fall, and …………………………my poor plants and pots have no protection. Thank you for the reminder, another great poem, don’t know how you do it.  🙂

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Hey, Neil good to see you! Amazing how ephemeral everything is. Ummm, us too. Glad you came by.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Hi, Loretta, so good to see you. I still have a lot out there in the elements, but what is the point of bringing in annuals? Sometimes by miracle they return, so amazing, I just moved a little fig tree into a tool shed. Hopefully it will make it through the winter and bear fruit next year. Thank you for the lovely compliment. I actually didn’t play to write a poem this eek, hadn’t ins o long, it just surprised me. Thankfully.

reply jadedruid wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Wonderful. I had to smile my neighbors roses are blooming their final blooms for the year and they made be the prettiest flowers so far this year.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Hi Sharon, yeah, roses seem to be show off’s. Too much!

reply oneupmatt wrote on Nov 18, ’08 Pssssst ! Hey Aunt Susan, it’s me, Matt. I love your poem, too !

reply sylvie1 wrote on Nov 19, ’08 I love these thoughts .. there is something sad, melancholy about the last breaths of the flowers of summer … the rose is soo breathtaking, it makes me feel like crying. Thank you for this beautiful blog.

reply belita747 wrote on Nov 19, ’08 The poem depicts well your love for roses…nice photos!

reply asolotraveler wrote on Nov 19, ’08 seems as if FROST jumped into our individual minds in a collision of kindred thinking

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 19, ’08 Hi, Matt! I’m glad you like the poem, thanks for coming by and leaving a comment. Love, Auntie

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 19, ’08 Thanks, Sylvie, so much! It IS sad, so very sad for seasons to end and all that they bring to vanish. Thanks for the visit and the lovely comment.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 19, ’08 Hi, Belita, thanks! Love of roses and all things summer.

reply kwika wrote on Nov 19, ’08 Make you sad doesn’t it a bit…all those lovely scents and colours gone.  Still winter can produce some surprises too:o)

reply teena2 wrote on Nov 21, ’08 sylvie1 said there is something sad, melancholy about the last breaths of the flowers of summer I thought it was kind of sad too…the last part of the poem, but then I thought of the bears hibernating… 🙂

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 21, ’08 teena2 said I thought it was kind of sad too…the last part of the poem, but then I thought of the bears hibernating… 🙂 Sniff, sad it is! I keep thinking of my raccoon family, I guess they are hibernating. Haven’t seen them lumbering around the garbage lately.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 21, ’08 Hi, Bev, true that winter has surprises too, but I think I prefer everything up to it. Hey, good to see you!

reply gilesy01 wrote on Nov 22, ’08 I love this one Sue.It’s so real.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 22, ’08 Thanks, Giles! My husband is pushing me to send it to The New Yorker Magazine. Interesting, how I wasn’t attached to this one, it’s not like what I usually do; maybe I’m coming out of my dry spell.