By Jayne Bullock
Whish, whoosh! Whisper, Rustle!
A sea of green - swooping, swaying,
dancing to the beat - fast, then slow,
in tempo, with rhythm;
a ballet without music or sound.
A gyrating sea in shades and hues of green –
astir with the evening breeze.
Slender lean stems, crowned with oat-like seeds,
surrounded by lush, willowy green leaves.
A meadow, an ocean-
bespeckled with puffs of purple, white and yellow,
effusively lining and carpeting a well-trodden path.
Behold! The tall gracefully swaying stalks proclaim –
am I not a work of art- a welcome perennial to nature?
A menace? Surely not! Only man has no time for me.
They say I am a contagious, earthy-hungry eyesore,
an undesirable denizen –
a threat to farmland, roadside and hill!
But, still... See how I sway in the breeze –
vacillating unpredictably in magical motion.
Hypnotic - bowing and undulating in the wind,
with regal dignity.
I beckon, I call;
making life seem more beautiful, gentle –
a welcoming haven. Peace