A measure of your day’s success
counts cobbler’s pegs attached
to legs while lack abates a sorry
state of farmer’s friend maligned.
For mine I’d rest a happy man to
never see the pest again, though
it aggrieves – indeed the weed’s
a worthy sign of simplest kind.
Food for some it’s said and I’d
agree – mineral rich and easily
obtained; the seed reminds me
every day of that complicity.
Bidens pilosa is not my friend
I’m sad to say, there is no way
I’ll eat the leaf – though it is done
and I’m no vegetarian.
© 8 July 2009, I. D. Carswell