The last few blogs have been an attempt to pursue the blog-a-day NaBloPoMo, or whatever combination of syllables I recall it being. Anyhow, in those previous blogs I have clearly failed to tag NaBloPoMo in any of them which I shall endeavour to correct for future submissions. So, as I look out of the patio doors to the increasingly chill outlook of November, I observe a miniature pink rose in one of the pots with three proud blooms braving the cold.
Bludgeoned and battered by bitter wind,
It never mattered
To this rugged gem. It seemed the head grinned
At the onset of winter,
Proud pink petals tightly pinned
Together: rehearsal for the Spring.