Eerbloom: Rose of Friendship

The heirloom rose by the rail is blooming now.

The buds start out deep coral, turn dark orange,
fade to peach, pale out in pink with a golden core.
Loathed to clip flowers, I save and savor beauty,
to eke out the bloom to its pale, pale end.
A neighbor, not caring for the overblown rose,
tells me, Dont be afraid to snip after the first blush
and before the hip, to bring forth a second flush
and another and another in brilliant succession.
Dont let it consummate once in a season spent.
Head it off before it comes so that blossoms
will come again and again in beauty extended.
Beauty invested: cut it short to reap it long.
Saving is not saving, usury not usury in transmuting
the coin of the realm into the coin of the spirit:
The Christians, after Aristotle, outlawed usury,
saying it was unnatural to breed metal from metal.
But reaping roses from roses is like the usury of friendship,
one gift spawning another in an infinite cycle of love,
like Botticellis Three Graces, whose diaphanous
flutter of gowns and graceful movements of arms,
demonstrate the roundel of heartful exchange.
Unhae Langis