My American Wisteria
My morning hair in an unflattering
mirror, destitute of any beauty;
irregular spikelets rare, mostly sessile,
squashed flat as a grey, thread-bare beret…
and I sigh.
Where has all my dark hair gone?
I strip the sheath of sleeping clothes,
searching clandestine cloughs and broad
meadows wrinkled with racemes…
and I sigh.
Sweet scented valleys of cockspur grass,
variable in its luxuriance;
diffuse flood of the auburn light: all gone!
now dried fields, ditches, and somnolent ponds:
riversides.
Where is my American wisteria?
the cable-like sinews and woody sytrength...
so spare and yet strong enough to support
a pergola of hope to my youth?
and I sigh.
--
notes
the American wisteria is the slim and trim and leafy hardy growth of youth....
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