For though it is cold and bitter,
you raise your bright faces
and radiate loveliness—
as if to prove what is delicate
can thrive in adversity.
There is so much chill,
and sometimes I forget
I can meet bitterness with softness—
I think I, too, must learn
to speak the language of sharp.
But you, pansies, purple and yellow,
white and maroon, you remind me
that softness can be resilient,
that one small beauty
changes everything—
and if today we are able to shine,
despite cold, despite callousness,
then shamelessly, splendidly
let us shine.