Stewards

The hedgerows fall like weeds
to a constant eye,
pulling the unwanted to
make room for a vision
that will kill us all,

there where the grasses
hold the secrets of the world,
old bones and the ripening of life
flogged for no other reason than we can,

and the children know this somehow,
put away the blades and your dominion
and go to the edge of the fields
and plant your heart in the green light