3677. JUNE

JUNE

See the rose growing in the

doorway  -  no one other cares, and

it grows alone. Not afar, as if lost

and cast out on the open sea, adrift

in some salty boat, but here, on this

ground, amidst both you and me.

We, we are now the scavengers

of these hearts, these visions, this

place. Let us look this over.

-

I extend my hand to your little

face. The door nearby has a 

slight sag where it hangs at the

hinge, and nothing fits quite

right  -  when closed, it lets

in light, in Winter, all that air.

-

Yet, now on the promise of

June, we put that all aside  -

blossoms and flowers and 

plants a'plenty, all in a very

perfect fury of the season. See

this rose, then, growing

in the doorway. No one

other cares, and it

grows alone.