New growth
HACKED back.
Flowers gone.
So too the native bees, lizards and birds.
A brutal pruning,
outside my window.
Perhaps a neat and tamed form to some,
But I dream
of the wispy new
luscious green branches and leaves.
This is where the grey goshawk had perched,
calculating so carefully.
Could it take the sand monitor below?
I stare outside this window
most days.
Feel the essence of these plants,
my companions.
May new shoots
be born from rising humidity,
new growth sprout in UNRULY form.
Be wild.
Being with Country 