🥀🌿🥀🌿🥀The last of summer gardening ends.
Hang in the shed with the shears.
The final petals of the rose have fallen,
Leaving rose hips,
Like tiny crabapples
With a crown of rumpled hair
And calyx now dry and stiff
As a starched collar
Trying to hide the crimson berry
That stands erect upon the high
Seat of the peduncle.
I gather these petals for a sachet pillow,
And press them in books
To mark the poems I love
With summer’s fingerprints.
Then make my tea with those rose hip
Berries and honey,
The last taste of the season.🥀🌿🥀🌿🥀
