Ivy Secrets
They were always present
Sprawling walls concealed
Behind which gala events
Costume parties
And hideaway meetings
Filled the nights
Only the ivy cover knew for sure
All the truth behind its concealment
Rustling darkly in gusts of air
Then abruptly falling silent
While listening to the resident dragonfly
Make its daily stealth-quiet visit
Like a hovering Blackhawk
Approaching a jungle penetration
The dragonfly might infiltrate secrets
That the leaves were shedding
How gifted
To be endowed with such transparency
To entertain with iridescent colors while surveying
Then to make swift retreat
To its pond of choice
Skim the shimmering waters
And disappear into the shadows
Ivy covered walls sigh with admiration
At the spirited arrival and departure speed
Wondering if the flying gatherer is a nightly visitor
Or
A spy
Stealing the secrets of our camouflaged asylum of silence
I have found out the truth of the matter. My grandparents bought two farms across the road from each other. They chose the better barn and outbuildings and ivy-covered substantial farmhouse to live. While they farmed across the road, they rented out the two-story ramshackle clapboard house.
After my grandparents died, I happened by the place and saw that while the ramshackle house had been renovated to look quite good and substantial, the ivy-covered brick house was gone. It seems that the ivy's roofs work their way into small cracks in the mortar and eventually with winter heat and cold, tear down the brick buildings faster than those same conditions without Ivy.
Ron