Deep Purple

Ironweed, Vernonia sp.

The Ironweed stands tall in the field.
Where teasel has passed its lavender head to brown and graceful grasses lean. Branching broadly above the warming tones of goldenrod, with the disposition to look me straight in the eye as I walk there.

I cannot leave without taking a bit of it with me, though its toughness plants it firmly in our baked clay soil. The dainty flowers riding atop the towering stems draw my eye every time.
Their delicate tubular flowers densely packed into each small head, and held in clusters ten feet high.



Glazed by morning dew.
Holding the days’ heat from under a setting sun.
Until autumn’s chill is with us.
It stands sturdy and strong.

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