When Guessing Is Your Only Option
Can you guess what the invasive vine Kudzu sounds like? It grows quickly, hungrily. It’s a fast song tasting of many greens, twisting fiddle-like notes, probably sounding just as you’d suspect, if you could hear it. But you can’t, unfortunately. You’ll simply have to take my word for what its voice says all day long, out there, smothering the trees along the roads and climbing the power lines over your head in its operatic of wide berth, until summer gasps its last, at least, and Autumn comes again with its singing crackle in the throat and all turns to a quieted nest of browned stillness. Even then is an unknown sound to your mundane ears.
Johnson City, TN
Poetry, Fiction, MFA Candidate, Appalachian, www.larrydthacker.com