Roadside Pollination

Fleeing down grassy corridors from whirring teeth that hack at your habitat with ill-managed discipline; this rich mossy canvas spat out as loamy clots, to

Moonlight Pollination

Beneath Diana’s pale embrace, two moths shimmer in the starlight; waltzing through moonbeams, as they flicker across the cool embrace of noon’s forgotten corsage. Suffused

The Peppered Moth

Arising from our ashen pit of toil, As forge and mill did shape this unkempt land; The blackness of the trees from coal and oil,

Do Not Go into Artificial Light

Do not go into artificial light, Our lamps can bring an end to fragile life; Fly, fly away into the shrouded night.   Your passion