sorry to dwell upon these roses

These roses were here in the little yard behind our house when we arrived. Don't know the variety. (If one of you garden bloggers out there does know, please share!) But I love them. We have had freezing temps, snow, and then 80 degrees on the immediate heels of that, and then repeat. And yet here they are, luscious. These shots were taken this morning.

Would that I could blossom with such grace,

under such adversity.

And here is a poem to celebrate them.

Old Roses

White roses, tiny and old, flare among thorns
by the barn door.

For a hundred years

under the June elm, under the gaze
of seven generations,

they lived briefly

like this, in the month of roses,

by the fields

stout with corn, or with clover and timothy
making thick hay,

grown over, now,

with milkweed, sumac, paintbrush.

Old

roses survive
winter drifts, the melt in April, August
parch,

and men and women

who sniffed roses in spring and called them pretty
as we call them now,

walking beside the barn

on a day that perishes.

By Donald Hall

ps--Does anybody know how to keep blogger from reformatting and justifying my line breaks??? It is impossible to post a poem without having blogger modify it in such a way that the form is broken. Thanks for your help!