Behind the Cedars

Behind the cedars 
a bitter frost coated and crusted
   fallen maple and small pin oak leaves
these ornamented the browning
   grass and kept me
company as their whispered sounds rustled
and companioned me up the wooded side
   of the hill
I thought how much I would miss you
and kicked up a gathering of the leftovers
   of summer
Spore marked and withered 
Some others torn or cracked with time
 
Underneath something caught my eye
I knelt to push the decay away
   and saw the green and violet
holding close to the earth
Somehow this child, new in the cold,
   but a small purple flower whose head
prouded up surrounded by the intimacy
   of all those warming memories
   and sunshine that filtered
through tree limbs and leaves
In unwavering reticence 
   that solitary plant endured
For you, I didn’t pick it
I let it grow