Just a little violet in the grass,

set to feast on sunshine, drink up rain,

meant to bless the wanderers who pass,

meant to live and thrive and then to wane.

But how the sky could wander wide and free!

And how the dirt pressed hard against the root!

She tipped and drained the sky; she bent to see

how small the place had grown beneath her foot.

The clouds moved in—opaque and dreary pain!

The rumble grumble swelled. The lightning struck,

and it was tears that splattered with the rain.

The breezes spiraled—tornado-like—to suck

up grass and dirt and limbs into the void.

And oh! Oh! What have I destroyed?