Monoculture

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,

Like the wilderness

Grown wild with life.