Weeds are flowers with attitude |
The Trefoil or the Tree Bindweed climbs azalea twigs unfurling creamy blooms. Winding tendrils wrap up leaves, red blossoms are entombed. Bursts of yellow flak appear in dandy lawn formation. Endless battle rages on for landscape domination. Blackberry spreads maliciously, to catch and claw our shins. White flowers become juicy fruit, leave inky stains on skin. Fleabane mimics daisy bud with blossoms quarter-size. Growing almost anywhere, a lavender surprise. Ivy vines creep up a fir, green trefoils strangling bark. Needles speak to unquenched thirst, brown, skeletal, and stark. Scotch Broom sweeps a dusty road, waves yellow in the breeze. Sinuses respond in red, inflamed by allergies. Thistle shows a warning sign, keep a cautious distance. Thorns surround the royal head of purple-crowned indifference. Emerald velvet on the roof and seedlings in the eaves. Orange lichen spots the deck, bright moss drapes maple trees. Nature serves up smorgasbord despite what we regard. Bounty, bane, and pestilence, all found in our back yard. Some praise the pretty petals while others feel the pain. The eye of the beholder becomes the picture frame. Beauty is a fleeting thing, its source a mystery. Who could ever dare to judge a flower or a weed? Author's note: ▼ |