Its been around since time
Began
Indigenous they say
It used to be called
The culfrewort or pigeon plant
its way appears to me
Enjoying of the ancient climes
Steeped in mystery
Its kind of in abundance
In my garden I can say
It seems its carried on the breeze
Midsummer sees it play
Into the hearts of many
With its so attractive flowers
Pod like fruits adorn its stems
to fall in sprinkling showers
If you do look closely
It resembles clustering birds
Which is why its known as columbine
A dove in so many words
Myriads of doves heads
Or eagles claws some say
Tney grow out in the deserts
Of Africa and pay
The Lion some thought apparently
Drawn to its sweet acclaim
In woods it likes to shelter
A deep rich purple flame
Sometime white like fallen snow
The poet Spenser long ago
made reference
To a damsel whose fair neck
Had Took on its glow
It stands for grief
So I have been told
And desertion negatively
Five carpels grouped together
Which upon maturity
Exposes shiny black seeds
Medicinally they
Can be used for sore throats
As fruit forms go
It may
Once established in a garden
May continually arise
Its different shades of petalling
May happen
I surmise
The fae are often there abouts
Bestowing love and care
It falleth from the carpels
And it floweth through the air
Springing up around the garden
Almost anywhere
It enjoys a spot of shade
And like a maiden fair
It tripeth in its dancing way
Gently with the light
Blue and yellow and sometimes
a lovely spotless white