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Poetry
hopeful buddleia
the seeds are planted
with all this recent heavy weather
the rain has tempted Buddleia to bloom
between each crack and empty crevice
worn-out brick and damaged-slab of stone
where dust in normal times
would seed a common Groundsel
now
on every corner
every road
and every drowning city street
i see these spikes of scented purple
draped
like mother’s native secrets
heron watches
one eye poised upon the river rising
other
on these little buds
of earth’s eternal presence
where mater Gia kisses meadows
underneath the bleakness
of these
dark-depicted streets
and out the rubble of progression
wilds a wilding London
awakened prisoners
released