Ivy Wild
Grandmother's screened-in-porch was ivy-bound.
The way she pinned green
leaves to the screen
you would have thought them tresses of the sun.
She had such heart spun ways of doing things-
with silver ropes of hair let down for love
she used
hairpins to pin the glory up.
NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY
Every day now
the journey-bound
hickory-
in flower before leafing out-
opens another, another,
and still another
gold-tasseled
package.
Playing pendulum
with catkins as tufted
as a young man 's chin,
the gifted tree
going green in its gold
leaves me to write
thank-you notes.
Nesting Laughing Gull
In clump
of shoreline grass
a speckled green egg
swings gently
to the lub-a-dub sounds
of laughter on the wing.
*Poems in Avocet by Betty Spence
I liked Ivy Wild until it mentioned Jove. Second place I give to Nothing Gold Can Stay, because of the title and the personification. I adore trees and the personification of them. I would choose the last to be first in this trio because I can hear the gull. I know what the author means "laughter on the wing." I miss home, too.
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