When Roses Bloom in December

 

By John I. Blair

This morning early I was surprised
When I went into my misty garden
To find the roses blooming
As full and lush and fragrant
As if I were in Spring.
I do not live now in a place
Where snow and ice make of December
A month of death and stillness.
Yet what I do remember from my childhood
Made the roses seem miraculous to me.
I have grown older and the nights seem colder;
The long Autumn of falling leaves is almost over;
And the darkest time of the year is near.
But this morning in the garden
When I walked among the roses blooming
Early in the dawn light
I felt far from night.

©2002 John I. Blair
(Encore)

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