Rewriting The Definition

Tall black-eyed susans push past

a low cloud of moonbeam

coreopsis. A crowd at

the strictly enforced border.

A blushing nymph

waterlily suns herself in the lake,

invasive as all get out

a pithy warning —

settlers’ sly insistent creeping.

There’s no room.

We squeeze each other out,

every inch of this perfect

green lawn saturated

with poisons for perennials,

marauding insects, crushed. The sweet autumn

clematis has leaped

to the shoreline, her bold daughter

blooming in white fragrance.

Chocolate mint escaped a container

to luxuriate in this lakeside

property.  The natives are absent

except for one ancient poplar

and her old granddaughter.  They hold long

conversations underground

minding the aquifer.  Their silly leaves

play peek-a-boo with the beings

who flitter in branches and sing

nursery rhymes.  The chill

in the foreboding air.  The after-

taste of toxins.

Surely spring

is bound to follow

winter with vibrant new

species, resistant to the cancers

so carelessly created

as we succumb, unseeing

in our technodaze

to the newest wave of life

wanting to live.

 

Inspired by: definition, pithy, absent, bound

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Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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