An Invasive

Poem By Dr. Charles A Stone

She yearned for something unpredictable
something beyond the boring fragrance
of perfectly triangulated composites
in complementary colors and graduated height.

She wanted to be primitive, wild
and free, to spread her sepals
in the morning breeze without disrupting
a gardener's notion of balance and symmetry.

She longed for a sweaty afternoon
of uninhibited pollination, the freedom
to broadcast her seed among weeds
and lie decumbent with thistles.

She was tired of standing erect
in a garden of impeccable habits
behind neatly trimmed hedgerows with only
slow-witted Species domesticus for company.

Oh, how she would love to live on the edge
or beyond, in the open meadows,
where life is vital and intoxicating,
where survival is a perennial struggle!

Yet, she remained rooted in place,
knowing that if she escaped she'd be
an invasive, a threat to the native habitat
and would quickly be composted.

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