Thickety, prickly thorny ditch
You’ve been pruned for Spring.
You’re angry now,
Leafless branches pointing upright,
violated by a metal monster
with no regard for
your joints nor early buds.
The moss on your strong base tries to
passify you. Soft like velvet
sotto voce ‘You will have your day’
The ivy, dark and dry, winds
around you like a snake
‘I’ll give you life’
But no! ‘I’m a hedgerow! I will grow!’
There’s lots of rain and sun, you know.
You will grow and bud and thicken green
Hawthorn, Bramble and ramblers seen
in full life, gushing and lushing.
You will reign supreme in your beauty.