This fall has brought abundance
To land on the ground
A craft come to settle
In a bounty promised land.
Upon examination,
Peeling below the skin,
All is not quite what it seems
Under the rosy green.
Holes open up tunnels
Prospectors come for gold,
Ambrosia turns to mustard
In unforgiving mould.
As we delve into the caverns
Legs crawl along the blade
Feet forever marching
Searching something, someone made.
Seeds lay hidden in the core
Young yet still to grow;
Cocooned in their happy wombs
Terrified to tread outdoor.
Those fit, gather up the harvest
Think only of the gain:
For Ours is to prosper,
Only each other to blame.
©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address
https://abeliamayblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/01/our-state/
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