The last remnants rock
\nTheir blouses are torn
\nAnd lots of dry seed heads
\nWarn of a new dawn
\nLammas time beckons the mints look a treat
\nProviding their fervour
\nFor the salads I eat<\/p>\n
The last of the Buttercups open
\nTo eyes
\nThe strawberry flowers
\nA pink flush of the wise
\nMore fruit for next season
\nThe chives too look dry
\nTheir heads going brown
\nIn the wink of an eye<\/p>\n
Jasmine its delicate perfume
\nAnd flower
\nReally at even tide
\nGives off some power
\nCaptures the senses
\nWith it’s utter repose
\nWith its flowers open wide
\nAttracting my nose<\/p>\n
The olfactory dancers
\nThrough senses of time
\nCreate the sweet breaths
\nThat apparently climb
\nLost in their world of clutter and grace
\nLeft by itself and the wide human race
\nSunlight creates colour
\nAnd, mtransformation
\nIt hangs in the sky
\nAnd becomes our salvation<\/p>\n
Plants in dry soils
\nNeeding sustenance still
\nWho may feel neglected
\nAnd certainly will
\nMiss the display of plants in the field
\nWho may have been shocked by the glyphosate build
\nAn unnatural sickle
\nTo cut them and kill
\nThe chance of the last dance
\nThat now never will<\/p>\n
Happen alas can you hear them cry out
\nThe want of the Flyers
\nWho hardly now doubt
\nThe drones of commitment
\nThe silence of sin
\nMOnsanto the monster is cutting things thin<\/p>\n
He is changing the naturalness
\nDrawing the true
\nFaking the preciousness
\nWith most clueless to
\nThe laboratorial adjustments to time
\nWhere once We had a meadow
\nnow just pits of slime<\/p>\n
An ugly morass
\nWith such fetid ooze
\nNo life forms to speak of
\nWhich is terrible news
\nThe light forms were banished
\nThe darkness evolved
\nThe toxins sprung forth
\nAnd became the new gold<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The last remnants rock Their blouses are torn And lots of dry seed heads Warn of a new dawn Lammas time beckons the mints look a treat Providing their fervour For the salads I eat The last of the Buttercups … Continue reading