April pas de deux:
blossom-tipped morning glories
entwine the ivy.
Walls of wet ivy
ripple, eroding red brick
with nimble tendrils.
The bees are gathered
and strewn by ivy masking
the kitchen shutters.
Shade and ivy-robed,
a brownstone bares one corner
to an August sun.
Confronted with green
ivy and autumn, maples
blush with gravity.
Ivy stems spin webs
in December, collecting
snow in dark wrinkles.
[Check out other original poems here.]
Jaffalogue 