The serene philosophy of the pink rose is steadying. 
Its fragrant, delicate petals open fully
and are ready to fall,
without regret or disillusion,
after only a day in the sun. 
It is so every summer. 
One can almost hear their pink, fragrant murmur
as they settle down upon the grass:
‘Summer, summer, it will always be summer.’
~Rachel Peden 

It will always be summer
if we let go in the midst of the brief brightness,
when all is glorious. 

No cold winds, no unending days of rain,
no mildew, no iced walkways,
no 18 hours of darkness,
no turning brown with mold and rot.

Let us be strong and serene through all seasons
rather than letting go at the height of summer. 

Let us thrive steady through the hard times
rather than withering at the peak of beauty.

Let us age, let us turn gray, let us wrinkle, and go bald.

It may always be summer — someday — but not yet. 

Not here. Not now.