I am called Cow Vetches . . .
Can you recall seeing me?
On a country drive perhaps?
Winding my tendrils, so tenderly.
Very tall, like six feet high, I grow wild!
Every field and grassland is my home from May to August.
Tendrils and spikes are my leaves.
Cows love my crawling, sprawling beauty!
Have lovely dense purple trumpet flowers.
Even along roadways my seeds will thrive.
Stop to admire me, but pick me and I will die!
Featured poem November 25, 2012