DECEMBER ROSES

     I

How peaceful can coexistence be?

Chilling the blush of the rose

Drawing faint heat from its cheeks

The crystalline coldness melts

Unique designs are lost.

This trinity is miracle enough 

Beetle, Bud, Ice.

What god would intervene?

This the majestic cruel purpose?

     II

Snowing again

I trudge across our street

To visit the rosebud

How has its fairness fared through the icy night?

Unwithered!

Half hidden now, bowed, bearing its 
     wintry yoke

Yet blushing still –  

And there

A sign of industry – geometry 

A gossamer glint

A single thread

Taut at a logical angle.

And yes the tiny spider, black

Nestles in the jewelled white and waits.

Silence.

Walking on; dark tyre tracks on the
     further road

Traffic cautious, labouring.

_______________

     

     He Missed The Bus

As usual (or as often as not) turning the corner
I look across the Green – snow white today – to see
Yes, the 328, my bus
Lumbering to the stop
A sprinter might catch it
Or on a good day
A dash and a hop and I would
But this morning …
 
It’ll do me good, the exercise – cardiovascular
The plane trees, noble, oh spectacular!
Smoky in swirls of snow
Tower, stand, as I go
Crunching, slipping
Smiling at strangers in
Our common plight
Traversing this world of white.
 
Missing the bus has been a habit.
I’m good at making a virtue of it.