Scrublands

The hard edges advance daily;
The kerbs, pavements, the flyovers
Storm drains and run-offs
The push and probe of new roads
Endless spans of concrete
Tarmac and stone –
But as the wild is sent
Into seeming retreat
So it finds new avenues of its own
To push and probe
The verges and ditch sides
The verdant hillsides of cuttings
And meadowlands renewed
Upon our fair embankments
These scrublands, these wild worlds
Lost in full view
Owned by no one but us all
Milkwort, Hawkweed
Muskmallow and Knapweed
Hoary Plantain, Oxeye Daisy
Meadow Cranesbill and Great Mullein
Tended by no one
Except the feather dusters of the bees
And the inquisitive nose
Of the dog or vole.

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