Thyme

so this is what remains

after all your persistence

your long waiting after all

the lying and rough treading

patient cultivar

of thymus serpyllum

despite the harsh shearing

and cropping still believing

in your own vision and self-image

propping bouquets of small

purple flowers just above the bottom

covering the granite pavers

on the path winding

past leafy perennial beds

asking only for the touch

of warm stone

the flare of the sun

a soil that dries after

a deep quenching

your fragrance of forgiveness

lingering over what

no longer can be undone

your story of rebellion whispered

to your sisters who have

mastered the secret of listening