Today's poem is by Celia Gilbert
Eve Leaves Eden
The rose that bloomed at the gate
she stole for a garden of her own,
a cradle of seeds enclosed within its fullness,
defying Him the tyrant who
made the rules to keep them in.
She looked behind, one last look.
A bird sang, neither happy nor sad.
The time had come, and with that word
she understood the penalty they paid.
In her new garden,
the rose flourished along the palings,
not an aristocratic species
that would shine a week or two and fade
a simple rambler blooming
throughout the spring and summer,
in autumn the last to go.
Winter months she brewed
the rose hips for nourishment
and saw in the curling steam
the serpent rising from her cup.
Copyright © 2005 Celia Gilbert All rights reserved
from Southwest Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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