Sally Mitchum

The merest chink 

Unseen between the bricks

Is all the first tendril needs

It pushes in


Slowly, inexorably, grows stronger

Stealing nutrients from fertile soil

Fresh shoots loop

And spiral though older growth

Tangling and strangling

What should be treasured.

The experienced gardener

Would rip it out 

At first sight.

Slash and burn.

But I did not recognise the danger

And allowed the roots to grow strong.

I clip and trim, clip and trim

Paring back where I can.

Too hesitant to rip it out

For fear of what else I will destroy.

Or for fear that, Hydra-like, 

It will take greater hold. 

Sally Mitchum

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