Sunday, March 16, 2014

Violet (Poem 349)

Verdant, mosses beneath arching 
    lilac branches--bright, velvety, 
    a tiny secret world;
In earliest spring, windows, at last,
Open, house drinking fresh, 
    crisp air to quench 
    a winter-long thirst;
Later, when the day grows soft and 
    the sun rests
    on the moist
Earth below this room,
The scent of violets will alight, 
    fragile as the powder 
    on butterflies' wings.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

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