RoseBirth: The First of the Rose Trilogy

A seed buried far beneath the snow,
It knows naught but a single foe.
That blanket of crystals, blindingly white,
Pulls the rope of the noose tight.

It only need last a few more days,
Before it is warmed by the sun’s spring rays,
Warmth will make the snows disappear,
And the chirping of birds the seed will hear.

When it hears the calls of birds so shrill,
Then its petals will uncurl.
It will raise its head from the damp ground,
And the moon will wax, get full and round.

Then the rose will let off seeds of its own
And off they will go, safe but alone.
They’ll continue the cycle began years before,
Another mere page in the book of Earth’s lore.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman