santos scribes

from a green pot 

I’d filled with lily bulbs last summer

A pansy grew 

In brown soil, rich with holes 

of desperate squirrels  

A pansy grew  

in late November 

after weeks of soft frost 

and no running water

A pansy grew  

her center a violet butterfly 

her wings petaled white 

A pansy grew  

and I knew 

I’d keep growing too