Shadows
by Helen Barter
Will the dried yellowing heads
issue seed for careful gathering,
or simply emphasise your passion for
thistledown flight.?
Could you stamp on the brittle shadows
beneath your feet, and tread their dust
into a mulch,
to replenish fertile strata, in readiness
to plant your life's collection
and still have time to watch it grow.
Or are you still the admiral,
harbouring a desperate need to
check and recheck your stock,
whilst adding further to your hoard of exotic samples.
Do the creeping shadows suffocate
or embrace you?
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