When you went you left the stigma,
the green blush of sepal and leaf,
an unfurling flush of petal,
the blossoming of symmetry,
your tenuous pact with nature.
In your absence a womandrake grew.
Black Bryony, sways the young trees,
wheedles her way into hedges, stealing
with poisonous insinuation,
into the hearts of sweet peas.
Convolvulus too, the strumpet,
sidles into Black Stockings,
snakes up the slender limbs
of Iris, Lily, Marigold, Rose,
tightens her noose at their throats.
Spotty Spurge sprawls in the gravel,
a stubbly punter in a seedy bed.
Hogweed and Hairy Bittercress
stump up for the evening distillation,
old muckers out on the razzle.
Wall Lettuce slouches in corners,
Fat Hen cavorts with Mallow,
Common Daisy, Nipplewort, Thistle,
cruise the allées and borders.
Nightshade lurks in the shadows.
You survived the uprooting,
the thousand brittle severances,
the paralysing blight of instability.
You’re back with a new pact;
turf out the sods,
take back the plot,
dig through the horizons
to the essential matters.
Heel yourself in.