You see a breathtaking bush
in someone else’s yard.
So you get yourself a piece,
plant it, tend it, stake it.
In spring the vines flaunt
frothy flowery
wedding cake
waterfalls.
A few years in
you notice it’s growing
in the neighbor’s yard now.
The car is missing,
you barely remember
what the house looks like
when it isn’t being smothered.
While you were
bloom-blind
it spread down
the alley, the highway,
through half the town.
In spring
there are florid
pastel castles of
poisonous peas
pinnate leaves
scandalous
pendulous
purple
racemes
dangling
from
insidious
home
wreck
ing
vines.
Never mind like – I LOVE this poem!!!!!! It touched so many memories of
how much Wisteria I’ve pulled off of things. In Virginia, it grew up the phone pole and actually caused my neighbor’s phone to stop working. She was NOT happy!!! lol
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Thanks! I loved the wisteria bloom when I lived in the South. It’s much tamer here. 🙂
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This poem is STUNNING. It captures everything about wisteria! It is a devil, but for two weeks every year it sure is a pretty devil.
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Thank you! It’s probably my favorite flower. The vast walls of purple every spring used to make me a crappy driver that time of year when I lived in the South; it was hard not to ogle it as I went by. 🙂
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