After Alice Nine’s nod to this A A Milne poem:

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
“Winter is dead.”

I tried my hand at adopting the rhyme pattern and idea.

Here is my spring poem-


She’s hidden under the last brown leaves

She’s hidden under the snow

But her heart shaped leaves, in spiral crown

Slowly, persistently,  grow.

Orange pollen forms within her

The bees circle, looking down

Soon violet will be visible

Adorned in purple gown.

9 thoughts on “Violet

  1. Lovely, Fran! Your photo and words are so welled paired. I’m partial to violets because my mother loved them and had them indoors and outdoors. I have one potted African violet that thrives in spite of me… it blooms almost continually.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wasn’t it something to see the blooming daffodils adrift in the snow this morning?
    I like the promise of Spring in your poem – in spite of being hidden under the snow, the violet is growing and will soon come into her own glory:))


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