‘stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.’
T S Eliot
Rude, splayed fingers
of unstoppable purpose,
intruding indecently
into the shy atmosphere.
Not taking no for an answer,
they displace the proprieties,
lifting the flower-nub up,
and signalling their intention
to propel the bright-hued
sex-parts
into the full glare of publicity.
They advertise
their shame,
wantonly
courting molestation
by insects,
and disporting themselves;
No better than they ought to be.