The honeysuckle grows and grows,

It stretches forth and spreads.

It climbs the wall, crawls over all,

Then catapults the ledge.

Men cut it back, burn it down,

Pluck it up by roots...

But come the spring and a sunny day,

Lo!  Up again it shoots!

There is no competition

For the fragrance that it brings.

Its sweet aroma fills the air

And wafts on windy wings.

Lord, grant for me just one request

As I petition Thee,

That in this human jungle

I a honeysuckle be.

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Karyn Indursky's picture

I love the pictures you provided with your poem. I still don't know how people are doing it, but it certainly looks lovely. It helped accent your descriptive, vivid words of our beautiful environment.