Thistles

 
Uninvited guests taller than the rest
Blew by last year,none to care
Lay sleeping through the winter's night
Unattended, quiet, waiting for the spring.
What will they say, what will they do?
Immigrants not always welcome
Far too resilient, adapting to
Our nature’s will
That which locals shun.

The soil was heavy, dank, unkind
Few had tried to settle
Leaving spaces, stones coke
And fish-shop's greasy paper
No one ever looked,
Behind the shop-parade.
But came the spring
Still no one looked, none to care
The soil green a little here and there
The locals came alive a little late,
Struggled and complained

And now it's summertime.
Prickly leaves expand,
Defend the lovely flower
The scorned comes to its own...
Royal purple an expensive tint
Few compete,pale by odorous comparison.
The sun beats down, the land is dry,
But thorns and shiny foliage defy the heat
And flower above the crowded shrubs.
A sea of dazzling colour
A month of joy waving to the breeze
To turn to seed and wait for winter,
Feed the autumn gold-finch
To sleep again...........
Through the winter's night.
‘Til come the spring
The gold finch,sings
Behind the shop parade.