First Reply A wildflower in winter

[Braze]

Dantooine

​

It stood where plow and furrow lost their say,
Half-buried in the drift along the fence,
T'was but a scrap of color in a field of gray
That winter kept in patient governance.
No foot had crossed that pasture since the thaw;
The brook lay sealed beneath its pane of glass,
And would not let it's winter whispers pass.

I might have missed it, had I not once more
Looked back to mark the boundary of the land,
For there it was, close by the splintered post,
A slender stem that against cold could hardly stand.

It was no rose that summer hands would prize,
Nor garden bloom with careful tending grown;
It asked no favor of indulgent sunny skies
And made the frozen acre seem less lone.

The wind bent low to test it where it grew;
It bowed, but did not yield its bit of fame.
The frost had edged its petals hard with dew,
Yet still it held, unchanged in hue and aim.

I left it there, that small, unbidden guest,
To keep its quiet argument with snow;
For some things do not flourish at their best
In kindly seasons, save when cold winds blow
​

 

[Braze]

Tags: OPEN​

Frost silvered the pasture and sealed the shallow brook in a clear, unbroken sheet. Braze walked the old boundary line where stone met field, cloak drawn close at the throat; his boots pressed a clean path through the crusted snow. He had come to survey the ruins beyond the rise, stone cracked by seasons, wind threading the empty chambers, and to listen.

The ground is steady… good drainage. High sightlines makes it defensible without looking like a fortress. His gaze traced the slope toward the brook. Water source holds, even in winter... It will run strong come thaw.