Rose Petal


• • •


a single petal
of a rose
brown and dry
with age
marked the place
I had reached
in a book
for twenty years

the glamor
of the living dawn
was gone

but in its place
in various shades
of coffee, fawn and brown
— from where the petals once had held the stem —
a great tree
spread its tendrils
like a fan
in the harmony
of its quiet symmetry
a hint of some great beauty
yet to come
still somehow ambered in the Maker’s mind

I barely noticed that the blood was gone


© Ralph Wright, O.S.B.
December, 2002