The dying of the light

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Christmas roses bloom in the dying of the light

It's not a rose; it’s a beautiful buttercup, like the

Yellow marvels we used to use to decide if we

Liked butter or not. Did the yellow reflect upon our

Chin? The flowers resemble those of the wild rose.

And it’s poisonous to humans. Its scientific name is  

Helleborus niger macranthus – enough to tangle my

Tongue. Words weave their etymologies in the mouth

Their varied derivations train our tongues to spout:

Black refers to the roots of the Christmas rose

We share these roots in the blood-soaked earth.

We flower, alchemically, like the fresh spring rose, 

A cottage garden flower – hardy throughout the old

British Isles -  black hellebore was used by druids

To treat paralysis, quivering, gout, insanity; an omen:

Its lack of a white bloom on Christmas day 1588

Set the wise women talking, brought me enduring night.
 

◄ Ice light in my eyes

A rare descent ►

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