One of the things I love about writing poetry is that you can put in secret messages. Some of them are so secret they might never be decoded, others can be pretty obvious, but still offer an opportunity to plead innocence.
Weather is a good way to talk about things, we are all used to weather being used to tell us things in programmes and in books, so it works easily in poems too. I've written a poem about books which was actually about a person I know, although that one's not currently available. This poem is about plants. Honest.
Worthy of the sun
This seed is just as worthy of the sun
but staked and tethered has no room to thrive
instead, the same trees race to feel gold rays,
taking the place of others pushed aside.
Many, it seems, must naturally fail,
yet flowers are diverse here down below
and if we could find more space in the sun
who knows what wonders we who tend might grow?
For those who fear the plant may 'come a weed,
shading the leaves that we have grown to know,
with greening sun and nourishment below
just watch and wait to see what fruit might grow.
Ⓒ Cara L McKee 9/2/17
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