The rose that spends all of time
Dancing in the light
Is as sure to die
As the one that just
Cries in the dark. 

Beauty moves as light moves
Opening petals to sing at the sun
Lowering snoods to weep at the moon
Finding sparks from the shining sky
Finding fuel from the dirt of its roots.

So at midnight’s chill, rejoice!
The sun will rise.

At noon’s furnace, rejoice!
The sun will set.