Rosehips in August
The prickly rose
hips blush
ever deeper as
autumn pushes
hard
against my sultry August
mornings. It won’t
be long
before summer
disintegrates
&
drifts
down
stream
to the ocean like
smoke
from an
eastern fire.
The prickly rose
hips blush
ever deeper as
autumn pushes
hard
against my sultry August
mornings. It won’t
be long
before summer
disintegrates
&
drifts
down
stream
to the ocean like
smoke
from an
eastern fire.
5 Responses to “Rosehips in August”
I hope you are going to add this beautiful prose
to the Poetry Book you write! 🙂
Thanks, Judy. It’ll be quite a short book because I almost never write poetry. But this one fell out of my mouth on my morning walk.
You’ve captured the morning I felt today in your words as they
drift
down
stream.
Lovely. Thanks for offering it to us. Judith
Ah, don’t you love those falling-out-of-your mouth poems… the best. A sign the walk is doing its magic. And rosehips! I’ve been noticing them too. My mother used to dry them for winter tisanes. Was just the other day thinking I should plant an old-fashioned rose in the garden for just that purpose. Thank you for this loveliness…
Judith, I’m glad we can share the sense of fading summer even miles apart. Swim upstream and visit, won’t you?
Carin, we dried rosehips one year to do just that, but we found that once dried, they didn’t impart much flavour to the tea. We must be missing a crucial step or piece of information about the process. In any case, the jar of dried hips looks pretty on the shelf.
Leslie