Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Poem: Ivy


Before the first flowers there is this:
the greening of ivy
as it tendrils up the brick wall,
greening even unseen under snow,

until, with the March melt, you see it,
your fingers reaching down
to touch it's satin skin,
as if it's secret life,

the nurture of it's all voracious roots
could bring you the same new growth,
tapping deep into God's earth
for the power to live.


The picture was taken at Poplar Forest, Thomas Jefferson's "other" home. You can click on it for a larger version.


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