On the battleground of England
Summer is being waged
A riot of yellow sets rape-filled fields ablaze
And pollen clouds like mustard gas to bring the city to its knees.
Lush lawns, blades of foliage barb-wire every inch of spare ground
There is no no-man’s-land
Only the Plant Camp encroaching on the Concrete Jungle
This is Nature taking back her territory, and they say she abhors a vacuum
The trees are her cavalry
Waves of green
creeping and crashing the walls
with parrying branches
and tendril reinforcements.
Isolated outbreaks of kamikaze daisies
And dandelions take on the pavement
Shaking their shaggy manes triumphantly
on conquering the hostile tarmac terrain
Stabs of floral pattern riddle the rotten garden gate
Dead wood gives way easily to its descendants
But even paving will not prevent them.
Against the relentless vernal assault
Even concrete doesn’t stand a chance.