From Tiny Seeds

New growth pushes free of sod and soil,
Curling, creeping towards dawning gold,
Tentatively extending platforms of green,
Then exploding in a myriad of colour.

Unseen from the sky blows fall like rain,
Tearing and ripping, plundering and pillaging,
Teeth bite deep and blossom litters the floor,
Sparkling in the dust then crushed underfoot.

New growth builds out of the ashes,
Straight and tall in dusks blood red,
A needle from the ground, harsh, cruel,
Fading with the day into the shadows.

by Stuart Doggett

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