These furrows, littered with bags,
Separate stalks
Bent over and inclined to suns of ambition –
And escape.
These shoots grow relentlessly –
In spite of me.
These saplings break the ground
And Send down roots
That anchor them in soils that are too
alkaline.
These ones, potted and clumped, shrubbed,
Must one day stand alone?
And sway in the wind
as the old trees do outside
Just beyond
This grid-like field
In an old decaying greenhouse?
Categories:
shrubbed, growing up, old, old,
Form: Blank verse
The ferreting eyes
Tiny bulbs of duality
Moon and sun in the shrubbed darkness
Dogs frenzied, the cries
Of sudden solidarity
And the lane broken out into madness
The small village shudders
With glee, the found frailty
Of pingwing patches permitting invasion
Through porous borders
Confronts mortality
Man and mongoose devoid of conversation.
Little furry creatures
Sudden sites of calm fear
Making cunning moves for survival, fast
Beyond human pleasures
Hunting it in its lair
Where death its wanton shadow often cast.
Categories:
shrubbed, animals, nature
Form: Verse