Sunday, March 3, 2013

Ode To a Violet

(In which I attempt to channel some old dead poet or another.)

Oh, tiny flower amidst the winter's grime,
thy tender petals
fierce and jaunty bloom
though storm clouds crouch, glow'ring,
on the peaks and ice
clutches fast the stones just feet away.
Let the tempests rage and whip the boughs
of thy tall brethren,
naked yet with cold,
for thou art the bane of all
things chill and cruel,
and in thy fleeting sweetness lies
for new life waking just
beneath the frost.