Rose Hips

wee and sassy

It was easy to tell myself
that I didn’t like roses.

It was easy to look at their long leggy stems
and their few graceful leaves and their manicured petals,
inhale their anemic, gentrified scent,
and dislike them.

But we all know that isn’t the truth.

The truth is as simple as nature intended:
I like a rose with hips.

I like a rose with briar-patch thorns and raggedy petals
and bright yellow stamens alluring the bees.
I like a rose with branches and thickets
that push at the fence.

But most of all, as the summer starts waning
I like a rose with bright red and shining,
sassy and swollen, tangy, replete –

I like a rose with hips.

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