creamy white crinoline
Lace of desire
Out in the hedgerows
Sent to Inspire
Loves growing near water
Holds such dignity
Ruled by the moon
And grows vigorously

It makes a good hedge
With the Hawthorn as they
Both enjoy Cherry Laurel
Whose green leaves do stay
Out in the forefront
From the earth to the crown
Sweet fragrant blossom
And a rich berried gown

Make a light batter
Of rice and kudzu
A pan of light oil
A quick fry all you do
It crisps up lightly
It’s fragrant attire
Wonderfully scented
A flavoursome fire

The berries when ripe
In the autumn we see
A cider of sorts and
A decoction that be
Wonderfully healing
A tonic of sorts
Spenser wrote of it
In his bitterest thoughts

Young wood is pithy
Often its made into whistles
By children tragically played
But it doesn’t make sense
For the sickening comes
More frequent they say
Than when playing the drums

Pop guns were used
Maybe 100 years hence
In gardens
The thrust From over a fence
A cork in the ear
Not the nicest of blows
The lovely red stems
Where the forage food grows

The fae how they love them
The witches too
Construct their brooms with them
That’s what they do
Wearing an elder wreath
On Samhain eve
Encourage the spirits a’ rising
To achieve

A height in the heavens
And help us to feel
Whatever is out there
Ofcourse it is real
Nature is clearly constrained by it all
Witches transform into elders
A call
On the magickal influences
Yes one and all

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