Who can blame the rose its compulsion to make thorns?

The weary blossoms 

bow their heads to the rain drops,
welcoming the rest. 
 
The leaves remember 
hopeful buds, bursting with life,
eager in the Sun. 
 
These fragile beauties
captivate, intoxicate.
They’re seasonal hires.
 
Suffering cut backs,
the greens dig deep to survive
perennially. 

Inspired by numerous photos of these rain soaked rosebushes as well as the last two prompts from Haiku Horizons

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One thought on “Who can blame the rose its compulsion to make thorns?

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