WILD VIOLETS
Returning in slow wandering that day,
we found in the shadow of a tall crag
nests of wild violets,
scentless and fresh.
Impetuously, I threw myself down in the mass
and buried my face
in the thick green leaves.
Now I remember it and think:
No one in the world ever kissed those same violets.
There are violets there now
and a tall rocky crag.
But in all eternity,
there was only that day,
those violets,
that child,
exactly that way
once forever and unique.