Ragwort in profusion at the margins, yellowy cheer
Heralds the coming of the stripy caterpillars
Whose presence brings joy to my childish heart.
I will seek them out, gleeful, hopeful.
In time they turn from tiny grains of life
To fat expanses of fleshy potential and thence
To their moth form, red and black, dayflying confections.
I will watch their stages, growth and transformation.
St Johnswort honey yellow companion at the edges,
Growing weed cheerful with valerian and bramble
This rush of summer, this outpouring of life
Unpromising ground transformed in plant magic
To green and gold, to flower and fruit, exuberant
With solstice bounty, the high energy of the sun.
One lone orchid, vibrant in the grass, this urban
Renegade this refusal of human sterility, bright
Reminder of the multihued hordes on higher ground
Wildness is seldom solitary, not by nature
One good foxglove demands another, another
Profusion is the season's flavour and delight.
There should be countless bees, grasshoppers.
Along the road I hear the silence of the land beneath
The hum of cars, I hear the absence where once
There must have been bird song, I see the barren
State of human creations and I love the pioneers
Trying with all their might to reclaim this space.
My heart hungers for beauty, and I too find myself
Out at the edges on the side of the road,
Clinging to what life there is, to the determined
Presence of wildness, in gasps and whispers
Longing for the songbirds who are not here
And the sweet profusion of remembered butterflies
I am afraid I shall not see again in this life.
Today, the worts, and the blackberry flowers.
Today the beautiful demoiselle flies, glinting
Jewels above the stream. Mourning absence
Celebrating life.
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