Saturday, March 1, 2014

61. I Love ... Trumpet Vines

I often wonder
how long
they've covered this old house.

I often wonder
who planted them.

Every year,
back again.

Climbing,
climbing.

Curtaining the windows
from the outside.

New sprouts
on thick, ancient, gnarled
trunks.

Deep red-orange blossoms
trumpeting 
summer.

Heralding the humming birds:
"Come drink of our sweet nectar;
we have made it just for
 You."


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