Native Garden.

The woods are my back-garden, Or what little there is left,
With mankind drumming the earth for fuel,
Leaving native animals bereft.

The deep blue sea is my little pond,
With great sharks for golden fishes,
Not much regard is given to vast ocean life,
For most make lovely dishes.

The vast fields are my veggy grove,
A patchwork color across rural land,
Feeding people across the world,
Instead of our near and many.

Peace and growth are desired in our little worlds,
A trip to B&Q can create a temple of tranquillity,
Full of colour, critters, and safety,
But not in my back-garden.

“Oh god she’s doing the nature rant again…” The recent weather has disturbed me and I feel the need to address it. Our polar season’s summer and winter are getting increasingly extreme. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy the sunshine, I really did, but it also didn’t take me long to get fed up of it. Our native species can’t seem to handle that kind of weather; dead critters are turning up around where I live. I found a dead seal the other week on the beach further up the estuary (it wasn’t an old one either), and a dead badger in the woods that didn’t look to be something else’s food. I know I can’t make presumptions on the causes for their deaths but it still upset me. I
A lot of people do work hard on their own homes and gardens. There’s nothing wrong with that. But there’s a much bigger garden out there called the English woodland. And it’s going to disappear much quicker than we anticipated.