water does not follow our dictate.
the ocean stills and storms
when it will,
rises and rains,
falls on fields
untilled or no.
life grows on without us.
it is not fertiliser that gives life to wheat,
nor the poet that makes bird song sweet,
but the unnecessary exuberance of being
for its own sake.
modern minds are grown in rows,
sterilised with herbicide,
picked and packed in clear plastic,
clean and perfect to the eye.
if only they could go untouched,
they would grow rich and dense,
grown wild with life.