Overgrown, fat red globes
Like lanterns with spiky flames escaping
Barely able to sway in a late summer breeze.
Book of remedies, contained in hedgerows
Rosehips giving up dense packed centres
To a sour syrup banishing colds of the heart and the head.
Royal purple firewood flowers
Cotton thrifts of seeds, soft and feathery in the hand
Woven into blankets to stave winter chills.
A triangle of wilderness, stragglers and country interlopers
Ferns reach out gentle green arms to brush fingertips
Memories to bind and to cure.
(One of my poems from my writing course. It's a meditation on the turn from late summer to Autumn and the simple hedgerow remedies used to medicate our health and our hearts.)