Written for and dedicated to my new niece, Violet Winter Ray Newberry. We haven't met her yet but anxiously await the day!
Underneath the battered edge
Of garden’s red brick wall
There grows a tiny, gentle plant
That hears the angry call
Of blasted winds and hailstorms near
And shivers in her place
Within the shielding, darkened soil
And hides her lovely face.
But soon she lifts her little head
And gaining courage, speaks
Of brighter things and bids the winds
And elements to cease
Their fearful hollering. Let down
The sun kissed rays that hush
The winter chill and thus allow
Her growth from underbrush.
And when the hatred of the world
Is calmed and heaven rings
The little violet of the spring
Lifts up her voice and sings.