Leafless September canes soaked in Mason
jars rinsed squeaky clean with the garden hose;
stripped and readied from last summer season’s
growth, canes poised to perpetuate each rose;
By December each slept buried in snow,
one end sunk deep in cold, black soil, the other
snug beneath an invert smudged-glass jar, so
tender cuts could withstand winter weather;
In April, we removed mud-streaked jars, saw
bronze-red leafbuds shooting on each cane, and
dug fingers in earth warm and newly thawed
to touch white, feathered roots with eager hands—
Empty Mason jars in a basement room
earned credit for July’s abundant blooms.
A contest entry
- Form Poetry & Options by Cyclical.
900 points, ended August 25, 2008, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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It's mild where I live in winter, although rainy, rainy, rainy, so I've never seen anyone use Mason jars in this manner, but the idea of protecting tender canes is so appealing, because I do love roses...and this poetic calendar saved in mason jars!
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Always organic, even these glass dreams. They feel my memory with steam and boiled down fruit turned to jam and jelly sealed away for early mornings when the chill is on the air and the steam of toast melts the butter and all this gold is ready for flavors of summer come again.
Love your use of mason jars, keeping the sacred rose safe from snows and ice in climates colder than my southern clime. 
Love, Tom B.
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Gardener's reward,
poet's delight,
beautiful blooms,
words to preserve them!
And all because of Mason jars.
Great telling, micol!
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