Wild Roses

The delicate pink hues
That clamber skywards
Over thorny stems
Fragrant are their blossoms
An adornement to the Autumn gems
That throw their colour
And aromatic scent into the
Warming air
The sweet briar loves heart fire
Eglantine be mine
To share

Thorns that catch the cloth
And whisper
Scratch the skin and sorely
For want of more care
Such a vista
Occupies the spirits flow

Taste some hips
Their sweetness catches
Esconced in all those scratchy hair
Wine is made from petals
Beaten into pulp
With sugars spare

The fermentation and creation
And all that actual essence spill
Abundantly roses encountered
On slender branches If you will
Sending forth the sweetest scents
Any maiden it would please
Wildness offers much ado
About the nothingness and ease

The absolute intention riseth
And again doth take control
All I see and feel and proffer
On a early morning stroll

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