Delicious détente—I went to visit
an old friend – Mabel of the Wildwood Way –
who dwelt past long-winding roads
in verdant embraces of Shadowed Hills!
Greening my soul, soft and lowly Earth
drafted me in euphorias
as on the bus I travelled, dreaming!
Morning came and went, by noon I was
embraced by her of two years absence. 1
Invitatio--
“Hello! How was your long ride?”
“Anticipatory! _Is that your car?!”
“Yep_ something right out’a junkyard!”
“Does it run, or do we push it?” I jested.
Driving to the brown-shingled house
I remembered from twelve years passed,
we talked vibrant in the mellow afternoon.
shunning advertisements and billboards,
reclusing; singing songs from the seventies.
Arriving, lunching, laughing, remembering—
We did it all, and then a tour I had
of her mother’s house; outside and in. 2
“You’ve got to see my mother’s roses,”
she invited me, leading me on in a reverie.
“Mother says they’re fuller than ever_
An’ that there’s a surprise somewhere
amongst the denizens of her beds!” 3
Circuiting about the old brown house
we surveyed beds of Cambridge Scarlets,
Delphiniums, Lavender and Foxgloves!
Turning back to the west side, we found
a house-long bed of roses, growing up
on trellises set up strong and reinforced
with strings and nails,
supporting deep growth!
Struck by the vision and pungent scent
we stood, stilled, at the farthest corner! 4
‘You know, mother says these Roses
are older than I am—most of them.
We’ve had to replant a few, over time,
when an old bush departed earth, but_” 5
Blue Roses, Yellow, Green and Red,
Pink and multi-colored ones_
were reaching up to the foot
of the second floor
Of the brown-shingled house of memory.
We savored the prize-winning flowers,
then the hybrids her mother had made.
Towards the back of the house we went,
and then—I saw the surprise foretold! 6
“Ho, what’s that?” I queried, startled,
as Mabel rolled her eyes, smiling!
“See, down along the old cornerstone?
That rose is in difference from the rest!”
“You see it, don’t you?” Mabel effused. 7
We bent to the unique among difference,
opening eyes of discernment to bear it!
There wove Roses, unlike any seen
in years of tears, since a grandmum's time.
Along and all amongst the prize-winners
were long, winding antique vines—
cast into our World like orphans of time! 8
“Look, they’re growing from the ground_
from the bottom of that newer stalk!”
“Have they sprouted from below the graft
where the dirt has been washed away!”
“Ho, hold your horses_ look at this!”
“What? O my gosh! Another kind, even!”
“It’s also sprung from below the graft_
… from below the other vine_ there!” 9
Woven amidst the wall of ‘perfect roses’
were two growths—an older perfection.
The first was dark-red petaled and yellow
in the center_ a “Grandmother’s Rose” it was;
a rose of our grandmothers’ generation_
before modern genetic manipulation arose.
The second surprise were large buttons,
Pink and white, with small intricate petals.
They reminded me of old-fashioned woods
with paths untrammeled and unpurchased. 10
“These are sure Wild Roses,” Mabel mused,
smiling and recalling a tune to herself.
The history of the cultivated rose
stood before us, revealing generations
of breeding and long-loving management. 11
Down upon the grass we sat to look-on_
quiet as though the life of the flowers
spoke in mystic ways of Nature’s Mystery.
Mabel took one of each flower in hand,
beginning with the wild, intricate roses,
then taking to herself a “Grandmother” rose.
With care she snipped each of Three.
She cut a blue bloom of the prized ones,
and a pinkish one of the wildest variety. 12
Looking upon them, she mediated radiant
and then bid me to hold the Three in hand.
We sat upon the grass_ all of a single kind,
and sniffed our three finds in unio mystica!
I looked upon the three Roses I was holding
and breathed in deep their fragrant allure.
There was a twinge and a rush,
as then and there
came the Muse’s Inspiration upon the air! 13
Amen.
[1] Original version penned 9 July 1992
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