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The Thistle Poem

Wednesday 16th August 2017

The Thistle

Drifting through the sky like snow,

A flurry of thistle seeds dance in the sky.

Waiting to land and hoping to sow,

Where they will for a year dormant lie.

Upon the first anniversary green leaves spread,

By the rain and sunshine they are fed,

And by the next year each has a nodding head.

Each violet flower can bear a seed,

Pollinated by hundreds of busy bees.

Though many think of this plant as a weed,

For the sake of invertebrates spare them please.

Crafted by our super talented wordsmith and Woodland Supervisor Tom Cowley

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