the mightiest of woodlands
rise slowly by the grace
of lesser lauded ramparts
born to deflect the tempest
and buffer more lusty forms
those mad whirligigs of thorns
who thrilling at the margins
porous and entwined
extorting force from force
thrum and howl before the lawn
like minstrels during battle
these turbines of the wayside
and heroes of the thicket
this music grown of quickset
berry, slip and cutting rises
fierce and full of fettle
holding fast the selvedge
to champion the fates
of creatures large and small
these backwoods incubators
do churn out fur and feather
to populate the rooty coppice
and deck the canopy with song
playing minstrel to ravaged furrows
flushed empty by the plough
bless every briar and prickle
and every gorse and bracken
bless every burr and catch weed
and every furze and nettle
that rises thrilling from the lawn
lucy meskill
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