Among greengolden pastures,

the fierce grew. Its plastic

vampire teeth tore into the jugulars of bluebells,

its molten leavetaking gave the earth

scars and heartburn, and left the fresh grass in tears.

The roots, understanding the nature of siege, its effects

and causes, sent fierce a chance, moist daisy,

the softest of sorrow incarnate.

Fierce, mating beauty to sadness, blushed

an incandescent vermilion that spread

like holy wildfire.

Fierce stayed fierce

but loved through

daisy’s soft sorrow

in fostering fated

outgrowth.

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You can read more of John’s writing at John Biscello