“Ask the Fuchsias” © Mike Absalom January 6th
2012

Out of the ruined houses
nettles leap barking like
wolves,
defensive and territorial,
full of contained aggression.

The ash trees sigh and
whisper quietly;
new comers they,
a green roof rising from the
roofless parlour.

People lived here and left
the year I was born.
They took their livestock and
their roof with them.

The ash trees are too young
to remember.
They know nothing of Death
yet.
They could ask the fuchsias:
they know.