We work against chaos; gardeners know.
Railings good for another fifty years-
more than time enough- barely hold up
invading species and unwelcome slugs.

     Winds of chaos raised to uproot the weak
          cruelly ravish distant fields as we speak.
               In the name of mercy then learn to pray-
                    let dark clouds move indiscriminately.

Working against chaos and misery
rare and delicate blooms a great reward:
the heart of wasteland quickens to nurture
so fragile and glorious a splendour.