This one’s been through a few iterations, but still remains a good “introductory” poem to people who don’t necessarily like poetry...
I Hope I’m (in) Clover
Some people are like the plants
the gardener never intended.
And I mean that in a
whole host of ways.
Like the bright-tongued
Putting down roots deep in
Other people’s pastures
Networking on every breath of wind.
Bramble folk sprawl, broad-shouldered
Laughing sharply at attempts to move them
Shifting to block your way
At every turn.
Still others lurk on the borders
Pale and weak-looking,
No barbs or stings, just a quiet rustling...
And yet every day... There are more of them...
I knew a woman once like rosebay willowherb
Thriving on the sites of disasters
Softening sharp shrapnel edges
With a laugh like a flamboyant velvet splash.
Incongruous purple boa
Among the widow weeds.