I am convolvulus.
I prosper where your ways are undermined
By war or social lapse. So call me weed:
Bindweed that comes uncalled for, weeds that bind.
Where eyesores are I flourish –
Where mildew, rat and spider occupy
Your seat and artefact. They are the world,
You the ephemerids, and what am I
Who have wound a way back in,
Who mesh and drape – until they all cohere –
Hedge, pathway and door-frame? See, passer-by,
How beauty decks the substance of your fear.