There are some lovely photos trapped in my camera.
The memory card will not yield them up to the computer.
I rescued three pale ivory roses and a spray of vermillion rose hips
from the bitter cold and brought them into a sunny room.
They are in a heavy square glass bottle -
not an expensive vase,
it used to hold balsamic vinegar.
The petals are densely packed,
multi-layered and quartered.
They have frayed frilled edges
as fragile as old manuscripts.
The wiry stems,
too thin to support the heavy heads
bristle with tiny pink thorns
and glisten with glassy air bubbles.
The rose hips are waxy bright,
the shadows they cast sharply defined
and slightly exaggerated by the slanting sun.
The scent is a watery faint