Myrtle

You look like you are crying

But your head is happy

It’s puffy and pink, interspersed with green

A pretty lady making a scene

But your legs are crusty , worn, and weathered

You’re scaling, shedding, falling apart

Pink petals on the ground

Coming undone,

You work of art

Maybe you know fall is coming

The insects are flying about you

Humming and buzzing

People on the sidewalks

Slowly becoming

Like you

Falling apart too

But they don’t seem to know it

Living in the shells like what the cicadas leave behind

Scurrying aimlessly

Chasing wind

What are they hoping to find

Myrtle, you see this all

Is this why you stand tall – despite the heat

Your weathered legs anchored in the ground

Connecting to man

Your glorious head reaching to the sky

You hold an unspoken wisdom

Within man’s eye

Myrtle, crepe myrtle

Beautifully you blossom

Aged, rugged, worn

You’re awesome

Torn

Torn between the clouds and the ground

In the wind you whisper your sound

Beckoning me to bloom

To reflect the Creator

To jump the hurdles of this life

Myrtle, Southern Living boasts of you

Crepe Myrtle,

I marvel at you too