The Butterfly Bush
I didn’t plant the butterfly bush. It grew there of its own accord,
in between the apple tree and the perennial sweet peas,
an uninvited guest spiraling skywards like an exploded party popper.
It crowded out the garden path entirely, but I had not the heart
to cut it back — I enjoyed its honey fragrance too much,
the daily cohort of butterflies which arrived to sun themselves
on its purple flowering cones; sometimes…