*leaving Rose Hips

The last of summer gardening ends.
Hoe and trowel, knee pad and sunbonnet
Hang in the shed with the shears.
The final petals of the rose have fallen,
Leaving rose hips,
Like tiny crabapples
With a crown of rumpled hair
And calyx now dry and stiff
As a starched collar
Trying to hide the crimson berry
That stands erect upon the high
Seat of the peduncle.

I gather these petals for a sachet pillow,
And press them in books
To mark the poems I love
With summer's fingerprints.
Then make my tea with those rose hip
Berries and honey,
The last taste of the season.

User Rating: 3,0 / 5 ( 62 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

You have an evocative style in your poetry that puts one in the moment, words that surround you so that you can feel the scene physically. This is an exceptionally good example of your gift. Very well done.
Full of wonderful images and magnificent similes. For me, it has even been a lesson in botany - calyx and peduncle are superb sounding words that I've had to look up! S :)
What a beautiful poem, evocative of summer and memories in every word.
What a beautifull descriptive write filled with the last days of summer. Your flow was so beautiflly constructed with each stanza. Done with excellent taste. You could actually see the rose hips trying to cling to their last days....