that one bud of wild blue rose br i hide under the broken corner slab br granite black cold slab br it will not show, no smell, no roots it will take br under impersonal hard granite slab br but it, a soft blue bud wild, had shoved the heavy stone br cracked other ones to turn itself in a br wild blue bush of roses br puzzling me unseen unheared alone sitting beside it br thinking ways to prune it, or to let it be br waiting, for the call coming br once a year, any time of the year....