Genre: ‘Nature’ and ‘Change’
The hooker’s green ivy creeps underground
With Friday revelations,
Stripping carpet moss from oak braille.
On sub-auburn pathways.
Stealth horse chestnuts lie in wait
for dimpled future homewreckers,
stripling shapeshifters,
who slowly learn not to jump for joy.
You think of forest fires, a cleansing autumn pyre
for your imprinted saffron monk.
The hebeloma puberty fringe asks loaded questions
For which each generation must fall.
And now you seek the magpie’s mate,
chasing something black and white
through dog violet, bog orchid,
butterwort and ball moss –
the florid expletives
crushed underfoot
as the wind changes.
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