A ROSE IS BORN
Marc Arsenault

When the day is dry and the sun is hot,
a restless breeze flirts with all she briefly touches,
Very soon the evening comes,
and her precarious life wistfully settles down to greet the approaching dusk with a soulful kiss.
Blazing light fused with purple shadow weave in and out of clouds.
The sun sinks fast to form the splendour of the night.
Humid air - now hushed, hangs heavy with the fragrance of sleeping flowers,
yet beneath its veneer of quiet repose lurks an explosion of life.
Eagerly morning ascends to arouse quivering buds in their wake
suddenly earth erupts.
Behold, a rose is born.

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