JULY 23, 2008 (Revised Aug 31, 2010)
It grows wild in the crannies of old stone walls,
Herb Robert, clinging to the crumbled gaps,
Pink against the grey.
It grows wild on cliffs and estuary banks,
The red valerian, its gossamer seeds spreading in the wind,
Reminder of the sea.
It grows wild in ponds and river shallows,
The yellow iris, catching the sun where the depths are veiled,
Welcoming the summer.
It grows wild on railway banks and in marshy watersides,
The meadowsweet, tall and dusty gold,
Scent of almonds and of the long grass.
It grows wild in high hedges,
The winter heliotrope or butterbur, great leaves, pink blooms,
Wet and fragrant, where the sea is glimpsed through a gate.
It grows wild, in Devon, where I was born,
The primrose, great clusters in masses where the cows pass for milking,
And in the church, in the Easter garden.