Crisped

I thought it odd, lacy baby’s breath with 

no blossoms or white blossoms still tightly 

wrapped within themselves, their delicate 

stems a gauzy cloud. No gardener was there 

to ask my questions so I looked to the pink roses, blossoming through the white picket fence, a beautiful backdrop to the spent baby’s breath. Bravely blooming they did seem a reminder of the cruel heat of the past week’s end, explaining the missing dainty white flowers on the gauzy stems.

“We should enjoy this summer, flower by flower,

 as if it were to be the last one we’ll see.”

~ André Gide, French author

(1869 - 1951)