(Folsom Boulevard, Sacramento, California)

Walk into the foyer of the store,
and you’re hit in the floral sense
with all manner of bouquets

at reasonable prices, perfect
for spontaneous gift-giving
or, in the case of small bunches

of about-to-bloom daffodils,
for a vase at home to watch
them burst into sunshine.

But outside on the corner
of the lot several exuberant
bush roses are parked,

at the moment a riot
of soft pink, compelling me
to stop, take their photo

in the wild as, inside,
I appreciate their brethren
rounded up for those

who will take them in,
appreciate them in their
already-dying state.

Not unlike some of the
pink roses outside.
Not unlike those of us

coming in to shop for what
temporarily sustains us in
these all-too-transient bodies.