The first few days of my new year on this earth hasn’t been the best, so this beautiful poem by Jane Dougherty fits my mood perfectly.
The last rose blooms
On slender stem stripped bare by the wind.
Like the last child
Flourishing in the failing shelter of the old parent tree.
Slight head bows
So little weight on the old branch
So sweet the scent
So bright the red in the dim light.
The old tree sighs and bends in the gusting wind
And the rose sheds its perfume
Suave and soothing
As dark winter falls.