Spare the Rose

With a mind always
on the prize, most of everything
consumed like kindling. Outside,
the sounds of earthliness-

a lawnmower, the chirping
frantic birds squeeking
out an invisible existence
for a seed or scrap of bread,

even inanimate creatures of moss,
of stones, of trees stripped bark
and bare reaches only emptied ears;
no one seems to notice when beauty

is devoured; not one rose, leaf
or blade of grass is spared.
Someone should ask the others
what they are waiting for.