wild violets
by the time the white
and palely purple wild
violets sweep the yard
you know spring is now
come to stay, long enough
for the muddy months to dry
as the bald-faced hornets
scrape silver fences to build
pulp-paper teardrops, long enough
for wrens to fledge their second broods
and send them out from twiggy nests,
tangles arranged in last year’s place