A Knight In Amour (Prunus Spinosa) A Master Of Wood Poem by john (called jack) wren

Hardy and tougher than most
Standing its ground, is its boast,
Impenetrable as a castle with a moat
In Spring it gets my firm vote
When its white blossom explodes
On branches near fields and roads
Clean and bright as a pillowcase
Is its gift to the human race
Armoured like a medieval Knight
Its spikes honed for any fight,
No need for a shield or lance
Its spikes are its solitary stance,
They can rip apart any assault
And bring any attack to a halt.
And as if not to be outdone,
Its fruit its left to soldier on
To be made into jam or wine
Or flavour gin, to make it shine.
Birds feel safe in this castle of thorn
Securely bringing up their first born

Teaching them quietly the facts of life
Without fear, and without strife.
And those possessed with a keen eye
Peruse branches gruesome and awry,
That will test the quality of their skill
For this is not a shrub of goodwill.
But those born with craft and guile
Will always ponder and think awhile
And dress in an appropriate manner
As one deemed of a good planner,
And cut with gusto and with glee
Those that come straight with a guarantee
To be the best possible for his cause
One that will arouse instant applause.
Giving birth to that twinkle in the eye
That only perfection can satisfy.
And as a magician conjures up a trick
This master of wood, conjures up a stick.