Green Vines

Green vines curled up the chipped white paint
Of the lattice work that walled
Your grandmother’s antique back porch.

They swooned into the diamonded-shaped spaces,
Some flowing outward and down toward the cement
And then out into the soft shade of the lighter green grass of the yard.

Other vines wrapped upward unto the higher holes
Where the diamonds had no tops near the upper edge of the lattice work.
I liked them; they had the best chance of escaping into
The pearl blue of the empty summer sky.