Dogpatch Violas

They gather like shy congregants along the forest path, these purple-hooded witnesses to my passing.

Dogpatch Violas, their petite faces turned slightly downward as if in quiet contemplation of the earth that birthed them.

They remind me of those childhood moments when I would lie face down in the grass looking for life existing just inches from my nose.

How humble their presence, yet how vibrant their color–that shade of violet that seems to capture twilight just before darkness claims the woods.

I count them as I walk. Five clustered beneath the tulip poplar, eight scattered among the decaying leaves, three huddled near the stone where the water sometimes pools after a spring storm.

These violets know something about persistence, blooming in places overlooked. I kneel to examine one.

Its five petals spread like open hands, offering something I cannot name but somehow recognize.