Each summer I fight the continued attack
of kudza on the edges of our backyard,
the creep and climb of the intrusive vines,
tendrils of new advances appearing daily.
It is a strong, stubborn invader,
ropy and stringy, it insinuates itself into
the metal grid of the fence, twists around
trunks and branches, reaching for any opening
to infiltrate and establish a hold.
There is a feeling of sententious resistance,
a will opposing my attempts to remove
the encompassing presence from my property.
There are occasional small victories,
a growth perverted, an encroachment stalled.
More often it is a false triumph, the last bit
of growth out of reach, half of a root left
in the ground to grow another day.
I can see it happening, watch the unwelcome
intrusion of the green wisps as they infringe
upon the ability of other plants to freely grow.