The rose subjected
Its thorns neglected
Its thoughts deflected
To a wandering
caravan of lights

The rose can change.
It can shorten its name,
Shorten its nose.
To Ross or Roe
or even R.

It can abbreviate
till it no longer takes up any space at all,
But the rose of Jacob
joyful and happy
(like the far-cry of Summer)
forever Bloom