place, NE

long bristle-branch; duck!
thorns tear this way and that,
and at the end, the grass slips out
willing only for buttercups, and
some lighter wasps.

the two little bushes have little to say
even to each other; the stump
is always a fearful warning
and they fear to grow into it, and then
away from themselves.

at some point, the flowers made a name of it,
but seeing how indifferent the house remained
they sulked, and went away,
whilst we two inside grew,
and flaunted new colour.