As frost lost its grip, clouds rolled and winds blew,
Rain-lashed river frothed into frenzied flood.
Under the water, breathless and bloated,
I was sucked into nourishing sweet mud.
The river withdrew…at last I felt warm!
The soft silt sucked roots from my swollen shell.
I’m gorging now, as the sun wakes me up.
Sprouts rupture soil as new life starts to swell.
Fruit of my future, clutched tight in green fists
That push through lush leaves, punching for the skies.
Nursed by sun and rain, the fists grow and grow –
Then slow – they unfurl. Freeing eager eyes!
I am between the road and the river.
No slimy-nosed cow can tear off my heads.
No bladed machine can mow down my stems,
Nor careless walkers crush my leaves to shreds.
White-fingered petals, beckoning to bees.
My yellow lips long to feel their deep kiss
And feel their furred feet spreading dust of life –
He to she flower, hatching seeds of bliss.
The sunlight lengthens and strengthens my limbs.
I stand alongside tall black spikes of reed,
White seedheads of grass, jagged nettle leaves.
We complement and compete to succeed.
Across the green river, tended, clipped gardens.
Behind the grey stone of the tinkling weir
Cormorants spread their glossy wings to dry.
Boaters queue for the lock sipping cold beer.
Dazzling damselflies flash and flit along,
Grinding oars of needle boats that folk row.
River birds fuss over their fluffy young,
Sharp claws float above, sharp-toothed mouths below.
When my stalks are heavy with next year’s life
The summer, long and lovely, starts to fade away.
Darkness creeps, petals shrivel, seeds harden.
Green fades to copper, copper fades to grey.
What will take my children from my dry straw?
Will a passing car whoosh them high and wide?
Will a gale toss them in the rippling water?
Or will they just drop, to grow by my side?
An earlier version of this poem was commended in Slough Writers Group poetry competition, Summer 2026.
