Growth, growth, how lovely, how impossible,
how idiotic to assume that growth can continue unimpeded.
Growth, growth, the sprout bursting from the cold earth,
how necessary for a time, but is the scythe
not as glorious as the weeds in its sweep?
Do the seed and the fire equally warm the earth? Growth, death,
both reflections in a mirror changed by the angle,
decline, the devastation of old things,
the wriggling swarm of new life,
the clarion call of changing seasons,
the frozen sap thawing for the bloom.
There is a time when the growth is long and horrid,
a time to cut and burn, to raze and salt and kill.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s