that one bud of wild blue rose
i hide under the broken corner slab
granite black cold slab
it will not show, no smell, no roots it will take
under impersonal hard granite slab
but it, a soft blue bud wild, had shoved the heavy stone
cracked other ones to turn itself in a
wild blue bush of roses
puzzling me unseen unheared alone sitting beside it
thinking ways to prune it, or to let it be
waiting, for the call coming
once a year, any time of the year....
trinity aana
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-granite-blue-bud/
