In August winter starts
to seep upward
from the ground like mist
I carry it tucked
deep inside my bones
like mercy or courage
the way violets keep
their own counsel
emerging ever-so-slowly
along the edges of a clearing
favored by dog-walkers
and in the footprints
of soldiers long dead
in the silent passageways
of mountain kings
we tread forbidden
over a bounty of secret flowers
their tiny petals quivering
impossible to watch
so tender how the sun shone
through the pale fountains
of unfurling leaves
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Edouard Manet, Bouquet of violets (1872),
oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons
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