Cuyahoga April sings
violet blooms’ exhales,
engorged dotted chords
of a sundry orchestra—
Spring beauty, phlox,
primrose-leaved,
pinwheel-shaped,
common dog violet—
Greater stitchwort,
bugle, bluebell,
dame’s rocket,
Viola primulifolia—
Leconte’s violet,
blue marsh violet,
wild pansy,
purple cress—
O how many
nymphettes, sprites—
floral maidens, brides
have been hidden
in this valley all this time
where a cardinal’s red
fluttering accent—
gives the woods
in Cuyahoga Park
a moving, fair
signature patch—
as all those little blue
and violet musicians
make a well-honed path
to the violet iris hoods
yet higher still—
when warm May comes,
enfolding violet dots
in iris hoods,
the glories of one’s eyes—
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