Flames like roses....

Beautiful open garden this afternoon at Apuldram. The house dated from 1410, amazing to see it in such fine repair, The last of the roses, warm sunshine and a dreamy air in the garden's quiet spots. And a poem ....



I dreamed of stones
I called mud-sapphires
and saw them –
many coloured, bright, in shiny mud.
 
At their hearts
flames grew likes roses
budding,
flaring
into ripeness.
 
In my hands
their coolness, light as air,
contained the fire.
 
And all the while
the rose-flames
blossomed
faded, budded,
grew again,
within my sapphires
drawn from mud.


I knew if called upon
to fight for right
undoubtedly
I would.

Sue