Early April Violet
An ordinary shift in the chilly wind
brings this seed to sprout amid braided debris,
just above the high-water line on a beach,
where the Nissequogue River enters the Sound.
All one can see are five frail petals
on a slender stem, with no visible leaves
to cushion them in such a punishing place,
where the life of a being so small is gauged
in days, and the thin light of early April
is the only tenderness this flower will sense,
exposed on a raft of dead grasses and reeds,
bent by onshore gusts as the new moon ascends,
when a spring tide floats the violet to sea.
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