Trickster!
menta spicata
Passing yourself off as an herb.
I call you menace – spearmint.
There are not enough juleps or teas
to make up for the damage.
Oh, you’re a sly one!
Starting our innocently,
tiny purple flowers
but turn one’s back
and there you are
in bed with the Italian
oregano, warming your runners
until your next conquest.
Lavender pales with your tendrils
under her skirts,
and one can’t even imagine
what happened with the French
tarragon you silently crept up on.
There seems to be no end
to your evil.
Some day I expect you to take over
the entire world.
This afternoon you’ll start
with the neighbor’s yard.
No comments:
Post a Comment