On stinging nettles butterflies lay eggs
Not on blankets or upholstered beds
The over careful gardener lays waste
To Nature’s order and to Nature’s grace
Holly leaves are sharper than a fist
But in those fierce conditions birds make nests
The sharp edged leaves the stinging pains have use
To make some creature safe from our abuse
We grumble at the rain and wild west wind
As if we’re being punished for some sin
Better be a wild flower or a weed
Trodden underfoot by human needs
The little weeds have their resilience
They do not ruminate, they are not tense
To be a humble plant is perhaps the best
They at least will have eternal rest
The beautiful, the plain have got their place
All life in the end will be effaced
