Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday Poem: Pruning roses by Fiona Kidman

Pruning roses
for Joanna

That year we lived in France
I nipped home in July, the cold
set of winer, to prune the roses,

or so I said, although there was
other business too. I oiled
my shiny shears and set upon

the annual task, slicing
clean on the diagonal:
they're a semi-circle of white

Icebergs planted in friable soil
stretching beneath the green native
trees surrounding our house.

There were four of us there
on the day of their ritual
planting: my daughter, her daughter,
               her brother's wife and me.

We hummed wedding songs
in soft anticipation of the first
buds and then when they came

you wore a scarlet dress
and married your love
and we danced on the lawn.

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