SUMMER PRUNING

In my cloistered garden, blood red roses lie,
Bowed, surrendered to the spear of morning light;
Diamond drops of dew mirror a turquoise sky,
Blue forget-me-nots cradle the lilies white,
All's hushed in heart's deep haven bright.
A silence profound descends, the dawn of peace,
Simply 'just be still' is the soul's release.

A gardeness comes to summer prune the blooms,
With tender care she cuts the sappy stem,
The lustrous Sun disperses earthly gloom,
Each radiant rose, glows like a ruby gem.
The garden of that Goddess is her bridal hem,
Each green leaf and fragrant summer rose
Breathes the beauty which one's True Nature knows.