Drea Art
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facebook.com/dreajensenart
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Roses by Mary Oliver
“Wild roses,” I said to them one morning.
“Do you have the answers? And if you do,
would you tell me?”
The roses laughed softly. “Forgive us,”
they said. “But as you can see, we are
just now entirely busy being roses.”
Drea Art
dreajensengallery.pixels.com
facebook.com/dreajensenart
virtualartistaltar.com
The Roses by Mary Oliver
One day in summer
when everything
has already been more than enough
the wild beds start
exploding open along the berm
of the sea; day after day
you sit near them; day after day
the honey keeps on coming
in the red cups and the bees
like amber drops roll
in the petals: there is no end,
believe me! to the inventions of summer,
to the happiness your body
is willing to bear.
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