A field of grass, a sea of green
where flowers wild, like dabs of paint,
add vibrancy to Nature’s scene –
sweet scented air
breath-taking fair:
bright innocence devoid of taint.

But then it comes,
it clashes, hums,
it grates, it thrums
the banging drum of progress.
Cold concrete spilled,
green spaces filled,
destroyed to build
the sickly stench of progress.

But lo! Amidst the concrete maze
where whizzing cars stink up the air
a dandelion, bloom ablaze,
arises strong;
defies the throng –
adapting to reclaim, repair.

© 2021 Moira Cameron

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