Despite the Yearlong Darkness Under the Hedge
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
I pass the place of violets along
The little lane that leads me from the square
I live in, in my red brick house. No song
Is in that council house, as was, no prayer
Of Zen or Mysticism. Purple comes
In early spring, yet earlier than spring.
Each leaf, an ogee, all the year becomes
The pointer to a revelation, ding
Of utter knowledge far beyond the mind.
These leaves involve the tiny petals lost
In shadow not just when the night makes blind
The soul. Eternity and flower are crossed.
A meaning far beyond mere meaning waits
Throughout the year, implying heaven’s gates.
~ Phillip Whidden