Dissolution.

From delicate, fluttering grace that stops the heart, to disintegration and chaos in less than a week. The rose’s glory dissolves into dried, wrinkled leaves, and it’s over. The plant absorbs the sun and the current gift of rain. And if we’re lucky, the rose will push out a second set of blooms late in summer. Blooms offer an apt metaphor for our life, our blossoming and vulnerability, and our rising again in a new cycle of breathless grace.