Sweet Violets

I remember the warm scent of pine needles, white pine, sienna golden and fragrant thick on the ground, that warm wood held in its air the promise of wreaths and garlands and snow.

The tiger lilies leant toward us, listened for secrets small and cheerful as the candy-colored hotwheels, tires caked with dirt that we flicked out, rock-sharp dust bombs popping hard on our thumbs. No longer mudbound, our brother’s toys parked to nap under old cinder blocks, old pipes, old twigs, tin plates, those old ones bent and scratched with little Dutch girls and ducklings fading into ponds where we fished for sunnies. [...]