Beach roses are in full bloom right now. Here's a shot of them in the dunes in front of my friend Rosalee's old house.
There really aren't a lot of words needed in the presence of roses. Here's a poem by Lorca.
Casida of The Rose
The rose
was not searching for the sunrise:
almost eternal on its branch,
it was searching for something else.
The rose
was not searching for darkness or science:
borderline of flesh and dream,
it was searching for something else.
The rose
was not searching for the rose.
Motionless in the sky
it was searching for something else.
When I'm foraging, I stop searching for anything beyond the searching.
Early morning rose tea.
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