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It's used as an afterthought, fattening festive 
arrangements for Mother's Day, Easter, 
someone's birthday.  An underrated vine,
enhancing center-stage flowers whose star-power 
doesn't wear well. It's the "coming attraction" 
that's there after the clapping dies down, 
replanted by doorstep or gravestone.  "Grow," 
I say, "Change my life with your traveling beauty, 
your common denominator, your scrawling 
signature seldom sought for autographs.

Snaking around graves at our family plot, 
it's an ongoing gift, out-giving the giver 
with its "overwhelming darkness", reminding us 
where there is life, there is also death. Surviving, 
thriving in hanging pots the less hardy exit,
it surprises and delights, reaching down from limbs
of trees for soil, unchallenged there in pine straw 
until tender tendrils insinuate their way 
to daylight through tapestries of needles

When the ivy becomes dense, I will know 
you are there: ivy of my heart, ivy of essence, 
the graceful way it swings and sways, how 
it takes to new habitat in the way you, Julie, 
cut a swath through New York City after lifetimes 
in the easy South.  We are old souls, older 
than the hedera, cousin to ginseng, reminder 
of the movement of the heavens, the ability 
to bring things together.  You were shelter, 
the poets' headpiece, bringing peace 
to my household.  Resurrection and rebirth, 
Julie, in this Easter of ivy.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

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Date: 7/22/2009 11:55:00 AM
Precious! Perfect....m a g n i f i c ient!!!! to my fav's please enter my contest I would feel priveleged my your perspective! "War, what is it Good for?" Light & Love
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Date: 4/15/2009 6:54:00 AM
A very wonderful tribute to your friend, and the ivy to give it lasting beauty. Your sensitivity, Nola, speaks to your being an 'old soul.' Old souls, of course, are bound to connect. Love, daver
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Date: 4/14/2009 3:12:00 PM
Julie sounds like a remarkable friend, Nola, and I am intrigued by the thought of "Easter Ivy." I am a gardener and I'm wondering if you are referring to the purple ivy that has tiny pink flowers. We used to call it "wandering jew." Love the way you describe it as "thriving in hanging pots less hardy occupants abandon." Many of our plants will outlive us. They are our gifts to future generations. Beautiful poem! Love, carolyn
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