Blooms like stars on clumps of mystery grass,
purple pops of violets amidst tangled clovers
and random hyacinths planted years ago—
You’re all jumbled merrily, scarily together
in my yard this April twenty fourteen.

You’re all wrong, you riotous jungle,
you unkempt chaos invading our suburbs
in tempestuous leaps.  We’ll have to
corral you, scissor and mow you
to maintain the illusion confusion’s at bay.

But just when calm comes sneaking in,
up pops a rogue thistle, a twine
of morning glory to choke the tomato
but sing all morning a pink and purple song.
Now that is some cool **** right there.