By Julie Lawson

Not all is lit by Nightshade
In the garden
Come in peace
And watch how the Auld Enemies
Of Nettle and Dock
Entwine in an early Spring sushi
Listen how
Sweet Cicely calls
For her Rhubarby beau
And Garlic Mustard echoes
A reminder of warmth
Longing for butter’s company
As the Elder creeps at ground level
Offering ease to warring aches
Plantain soldiers
Pop their mushroom heads
Above the green parapet
Declaring a truce
While their soft leafy ears
Offer a balm to the fallen