There is no hurry -- no hurry today.

No one you love is going to die.

The huddled gold roses.

The showy pink ones, bright --

pink, under a mackerel sky.

Was it irrevocable loss that

kept you awake last night?

Fear of irrevocable loss?

The huddled gold roses,

the showy pink ones bright --

white.

Like her mother's letters,

in plain writing,

in their envelopes, that she saved:

those were the things that made

her cry.

That grief has now been placed

at a remove.

But the rose that's queen

of the May, the June, July, was already planted by human

hands.

It can contain this. No church, no figure of speech, can make you love

actual loss.

The peach-down roses, splayed

single-petals wavery, fragrant,

near white.

Was it the fear of loss

that kept you awake last night?

There's no hurry, no hurry, today.

No one you love is going to die.

Elizabeth Macklin is author of "A Woman Kneeling in the Big City."