A friend sent me a Rose yesterday,

rooted in a green vase,

wrapped in plastic,

cushioned in greens,

“I come from Mother Earth,” she said,

“bringing you her message.”

She says this:

When you wake, dear one,

do not be frightened,

by the snow, and the cold,

and the wind,

listen to me.

The Fool’s Warehouse is always full,

retire from the argument, from the madness,

whatever dreams you have of the past

or the future,

I can say are mine as well,

Love me, listen to me,

see the sun skip and dance,

I am with you beyond

knowing, beyond

recognition.