Morning Glories’ Glory

Morning Glories’ Glory
Quizmo LaGrande

Morning glories, purple-blue,
Greet the sunshine every dawn,
Toast the twilight every evening,
Boast of beauty, pink, and song.

They climb, and wind, and wander
Through my garden and my space;
They invite sweet butterfly and bee,
Ingratiate and lace.

They travel cross the fencing,
Spate the shrubs and lag on lawns;
And boldly undermine
Any thinking they’ll do harm.

As pretty as they are,
As lovely as they seem,
The viney little devils
Have a pact to crawl and seed

In every nook and cranny,
In each unattended place;
They very nearly likely
Bet on contests for a race

To see which tendril’s fastest,
Which has the strongest thirst,
Which can wind, and tie, and tangle
The gardener’s foothold first!

Yesterday I found them lurking
In the water-heater house,
They thought I wouldn’t notice
(They were quiet as a mouse).

As I stood there quite astounded
At the ever-twining vine
Enveloping my hot-house,
The creature did design…

“I really want to hug you”
I swear I heard a voice
As they wandered up my pant leg
Round my arm—with little choice.

My nifty little clippers,
Were, of course, beyond my reach.
Suddenly my voice box was
Enclosed, hence, lack of speech.

A thousand vine-hold strong,
Coffin for my tubular jug,
Cut off its circulation;
To create a death row plug!

The coldest of the showers
They claimed I must endure
Because I clipped its tendrils
And untied its knots secure.

Beware the morning glory,
May you never see extend,
This most beautiful entwineage
That insists of “hugs,” no end.