My arms I wrap
Around my knees
And rest my chin
Atop them
The hood of my cotton coat
Keeps my braided hair dry
While it soaks up the
Cloud’s tears

A patch of African violets
Grow before my feet
Their small patch
Gowned with dew
The intense purple of the violet
It is deep
Grounding
And proud
It does not resemble a shy flower
Such as the sun daises that
Close their petals at night
Its color voice
Speaks outgoing adventure
And seeking mystery

The irises of my green eyes
Seem to make contact
With each violet’s center
Its face

My eye’s irises
The violets hidden eyes
We both count
Count the silent tick of the dark night
Swallowing all the shadows of tree and stone

Night’s clock ticking
So many branches
The patient drip drip sound
Of dew from the tips of the green
The torn departure of frost
Bitten leaves from their branch strongholds
The silent cackling of the demon’s moon
The slow formation
Of the stars overhead
Moving together to form their ancient constellations

All these things
Among a thousand others
Some unseen
Some unspoken
Some not yet known
Form nature’s circular
Clock of time nonexistent