Druantia

Once I was fertile fecund my flowers

were the favoured of bees by the swarm

birds spread my seed unaware of north south divide

now I stand hacked worn and idle baking in the sun

with most of the life sucked from me

but my foot is damp there is hope yet

should you move me a few steps to this rich earth

I may send down roots

But perhaps you would prefer to preserve

rescue me I am of good wood

and will outlast these pitiful shrubs that surround me

just oil me polish me to a shine

I’ll stand as statue in a palatial pleasure gallery

and be stroked by appreciative hands