Rosebay Willowherbs... Poem by Mark Heathcote

Sometimes a seed will not grow
from one burnt corner to another
as though a yellow laburnum
had poisoned the sky and earth?

And put bedrock-down
that cannot ever-be-unearthed
sometimes a seed will not grow,
and futility is all we'll ever know.

But surely, as spring follows winter.
And as water dissolves rock.
A seed will find perches.
Even in a wall, its roots will unlock.

Just as fireweed occupies
burnt war-torn ground first
showing off its ramping spires
we-too-will-be heavenly, disbursed.