Hurricane Lovers

They say the Oleander tree is pure poison if you see too many in a yard a witch certainly lives there about long blades of turquoise leaves carve up the sky in to shards of bluepink and sparkle gold My tree has pink blossoms but some are as white as White Lilly Flour soft as it can be powdered silk with milk egg and salt rising in the heat I look out the window beyond the sheer green curtains past the sharded sky past the poisin tree I am certainly a witch I hold you like a ball of pure white light How can you show and not tell?