I am slowly writing toward a collection of poems about the interplay of the scent, comfort, and beauty of perfume as a sensory anchor for me during some of the hardest years of my life. This poem is one of them. It was published in the "Autumn" 2019 edition of Songs of Eretz.
“Like Roses in November”
There's a certain kind of sadness To roses in November Flowers blooming in a world That otherwise is dying The color more intense For its contrast to the brown The living edged with danger With winter coming on For what will freezing nights inflict On saturated branches? The beauty melancholy-cast For it will not last the month The end of all its glory, Already past its prime But still it dominates the landscape, All its rivals now outshone Today it yet is beauty The future not yet come -Elena Nola