The fire and the rose

My Mum's cleaner and friend, Nimali, sent a lovely bouquet. This morning OB and I visited Mum's grave and an overnight shower had left watery jewels on the roses in Nimali's gift. 

At Mum's celebration yesterday I read the final section of Little Gidding from T S Eliot's Four Quartets, which ends:

And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded 
Into the crowned knot of fire 
And the fire and the rose are one.