Crepe Myrtles
The technology of these perennials astounds me,
accustomed to trees that never turn and grass that turns
too soon. My blooms lag behind
these sentinels of sidewalk.
If I could resist my mountain nature
I’d stand tall in the summer sun
croon hot pink.
I love crepe myrtles, too. The poem is great, especially the ending “croon hot pink”!