A bomb exploded in my yard today, A pyrotechnic boom. The spiderwort, Despite that ugly name, puts on a show Of gorgeous fireworks, shooting blade-shaped leaves In all directions out like flame-green rays, While in a smaller secondary blast, Embedded and delayed, are all these bold Eye-popping little blue-blue-purple blooms. If plants were audible, the spiderwort Would be head-banging. You would want to grab The nearest earplugs, beg it please to stop— And even now, with that thing in my garden, It’s getting hard to write above the hue Of lightning-green brightness purple-shot-through. —Henry Rathvon
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Great capture