Seeds

 

Seeds

 

Somewhere within, there’s seeds

from where her bushes grew.

Like gorse blossoming from grit,

rooted in shallow, stony loam,

seems well pleased

with what she calls home.

As cunning ragwort colonises,

travels railways and road

uses any way winds blow,

to drift her shallow roots.

With little effort to offer little,

more the taker than the giver,

consumption will destroy livers,

spreading toxins through the body,

she flourishes by quarried graves.

Her blackened thickthorn

sprouting forth, take their course,

but she recoils with denial,

unctuous she buds wan smiles

as if she hadn't got a clue,

mouths what is it that I don't do?

Gazing upon her shedding seeds

you might ask what is it she believes

and how these bushes grew.