Welcome to the Frontline.

We read the plaques, the info signs.
We shake our heads.
The facts are plain,
simple words for all to understand.
Life is on the brink.

If a crazed lunatic ran through the building,
shooting his semi-automatic rifle,
cutting down visitors and plants alike,
bullets firing through the glass panes,
peppering the Richmond sky beyond,
how shocking would that be?

We would cower at such danger.

But these words, which we do not disbelieve,
cause us to sigh, how sad,
and wander on at leisured pace through
continents and over islands, tracing
the danger and annihilation of
our benefactors.

Lost amongst the dank leaves,
a moist-feathered robin hops.
His coil of shrill sharp song
corkscrews through the air,
winding around the rare stems
which cling to life.

We watch him, out of place,
in this temple of Lazarus.
Is this the anecdote we will recall?
The plucky bird, attracted by the garden spade,
now caught amongst the dying,
not yet dead.

Welcome to the frontline – humans.

Linking this to OLN at d’Verse Poets where tonight Lisa is hosting.

We visited Kew Gardens this week. The Temperate House holds 10,000 species of plants and displays information on the work Kew is undertaking to save plants on the brink of extinction. It is both fascinating and shocking. Whilst touring the building we saw a robin hopping amongst the foliage.

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