Perovskia (Russia Sage)

Gray-green leaves stack neatly On brittle limbs that soar

Creating purple illusion

That floats an open door

And when a bee sniffs purple

Wafted by its wings

He goes into a frenzy

To find the wondrous dream

He sets his mouth for sipping

As he flits about with aim

To claim the purple fragrance

That calls him by his name






Beckoning Pines

Pussy Willows