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Sunday, January 10, 2021

Thorns - a poem about fairies

My yard is all over thorns,
raspberry, rose, hawthorn,
sweet white flowers in spring
bright red berries in autumn
but spring or autumn,
full green or bare brown,
the thorns remain constant.
Don't be fooled by the
fair flowers, soft petalled, 
or the round, ripe berries
juicy and tart on the lips;
these are temptations
luring the unwary and the bold.
One misstep, one stumble
one hand grasping too far
or too ambitiously
and those thorns will cut,
impale defenseless flesh
slice exposed skin, merciless.
They will claim blood as
their due for what you take.
They will remind you
whose domain this really is.
People seek the flowers,
people crave the berries...
but they forget the thorns.
The thorns though, they
never forget their nature
no matter how many 
bouquets or berries hide them.

- Morgan Daimler, copyright January 2021