Even Solomon in All His Glory

Brilliantly bleached sunlets

those big daisies bulge on their bush

the lurid cyclamens are crouched

in squeals of shocking pink

pigface and campanula

contribute their costume jewellery

but raggedy scarlet geraniums

have been out all winter

and don’t give a stuff, in their simple way

aping these worn bricks and bluestone:

they are in, you might say

for the long unblushing haul.

Would it were possible

that we could all just keep on

blooming here

like they might long well be.

Ha!

This is mere lament

but I have seized at least

the coarse-barked, fruiting tree of life

and shaken the living daylights

out of its crown.

Chris Wallace-Crabbe