Groves & Thickets
Suburban woods are managed affairs,
They’re planted, pruned and pinked by blades –
Such golden Autumns, verdant Junes,
And endless Sunday afternoons.
They’re so unlike the home of hares,
These avenues and picnic glades –
With squirrels a-dozen, and walkies-dogs,
And no dead-heads or fallen logs.
Suburban woods are manages affairs,
Of spotless clearings, sculpted shade –
Each sparkled Winter, bluebelled Spring,
And countless nightingales to sing.
They’re so unlike the nettled lairs,
These natures tamed and human-made –
So banish the gnats and moles and crows
To bark-brown field where anarchy grows.
Rhyming Couplets 