January Roses

By John I. Blair

Seeing roses,
Fragrant, pink,
In January, late,

Fools me
Into thinking
This is spring.

I’m already
So inclined;
The need is great.

But the forecast
Calls for snow,
Antithetical

To fragile petals,
Sweet scents,
Fantasies.

So I stand behind
The cool panes
Gazing at the blooms,

Their twined stems
Miracles of grace
And green,

Living in the now,
Finding life
Where life is seen.

©2016 John I. Blair