Alchemic Verse

Of clay and rock borne
So crookedly grown
Blown bare by the wind
Roots shallow in stone

Reach limbs from seed sown
Cut greedily back
Low from the harvest
Surviving in lack

Unable to bloom

Sharp shear and scythe hack
Keen takers carve loose
Shape weapon or fuel
New growth to reduce

Sole value in use
Sap soothing the sick
Potent the poison
From spindle thorn’s prick

Unable to bloom

Yet nestled by sticks
Grows lone bud within
Held deep where hands miss
Protected and pinned

Peek petals where thin
Lone butterfly weaves
Finds nectar so rare
To drink and then leave

Before she could bloom

Departure she grieved
Though brief was its call
Lone butterfly thief
Until foot did fall

And trampled it all
Her sap, stem and thorn
The burgeoning bud
And flower unborn

Before she could bloom

Growth mangled and torn
Stopped growing and dried
Too many did take
For granted; in stride

Above ground she died
Last seed on the wind
Held hope life would find
Rich earth and kind kin

Somewhere she could bloom