kudzu is good for metaphor

Can’t sleep. Got up for a puff. Stared contemplatively if not emptily out the kitchen window; not that the view can’t deliver a treat or a few; but I could not but remember the window we had in Bucharest.

No they had no cicadas and crickets going on and on and they do go on and on so one can’t really say this is a quiet neighborhood – not silent anyway, maybe more like a lushness in sound, a blanket or carpet or backdrop; maybe it encourages induction of a trance-like state.

See I don’t recall the kudzu being so prevalent. I could be wrong. My memory could be off. It could’ve been a prevalent presence, just don’t recall or if it was a prevalent presence I didn’t appreciate what it can do to other forms of botanical creatures. It isn’t ugly stuff. It’s a creeping twining vine. Pulled some out of a few bushes and they’d wrapped around the branches and stems like some kind of alien tentacle worm constrictor that would not let loose without a struggle or worry the bush branches and stems it choked would suffer injury.

If you don’t pay much attention you hardly notice how much kudzu infiltrates the other botanical creatures; only when removing the kudzu you can see how the botanical creatures literally pop back to life, like they can only in joyousness sing as best a botanical creature can.

Since we’ve been here I feel like kudzu has invaded who I know I am. As much as I love this part of this country, the more I’m learning about kudzu the less I’m liking it.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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