Little Violet a poem by Rebecca Buchanan

Little violet
Blooming . . .
In the dry grass
Of August
A prism
Of purple and white
And gold
Arriving a month
Earlier than
Expected
Long
Before the first
Rains
Of autumn
Could moisten the soil
And give
You easier
Entry into
The world
But it’s not about
An easy entrance
Is it Viola?
It’s about coming
When one is called
And going where one
Has agreed
And staying
As long
As one possibly can
It’s about blooming
Where you are
Into who you are
More about purpose
Than longevity
But
Longevity
Is what
We hope for
What we pray for
As we pick you
From the
Dry grass
Of August
A little violet
Daring the earth to hold
You back
(And laughing when it can’t)
Not what we expected
But
Everything
We
Hoped
For

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