Concrete Jungle

Concrete Jungle

by Mo

Where is the Goddess in your garden?
She hides,
As in winter sleep.
Under concrete slabs.
The ghosts of bumble bees as shudders
 cross the barren landscape,
And pressing gentle flutters
 witness empty butterfly spaces.

No more hungering for pollen.
No sensual pleasuring of sweetest nectar.
No vibration of grasshopper.

I will blaze into this garden and rip up slabs and shingle
And pour suculent compost and horse shit into your hungering soul,
running the nourished soil between my fingers.
Filling space with the potential of rich greenness.