"thou humble flower" (via) |
They’re that remorseless joy of dereliction
darkest banks exhale like vivid breath
as bricks divide to let them root between.
How every falling place convoys their smile,
taking what’s left and making a song of it.
Anne Stevenson (b.1933)
While looking for a picture of ragwort, I came across another poem about it, by John Clare (1793-1864):
1 comment:
Thanks for reminding me of the positives of ragwort. Every time I see it I remember BTCV weekends endlessly pulling up ragwort on the South Downs – not one of my favourite conservation tasks! Sally
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