unregarded beige
like lisle stockings
they gather shyly
in drifts along boundaries
in derelict corners
soften the edge
of a road
or a conscience
places too awkward to plough
let them be proud battalions
let them gleam
And in my dream I see
a million neon
rabbit guards
march out from Stewartby
with a flourish
of flowers
and a skirl
of squirrels
Each rabbit guard
puts its lips to the sky
blows a tree
