‘Drinkin’ in the morning sun;
blinkin’ in the morning sun… (Elbow)
We take sunlight, mornbright, mere light
to your eyes, and what do you know
of love and light
and the ecstasy of feeding?
Purity. No blood needed.
Stirred by currents of air, we whisper secrets
to one another: memes
of approaching danger, new seeds,
mites that might devour us; dragonflies
which empower us. We touch
and tingle below the surface,
know each one, assured
of their closeness,
though a self-styled intruder
could seed and thwart our space.
We run on a different time-scale, slow;
to your burning fuse,
we appear stillborn
as you cut us, make us bleed sap,
shorten our lives for your decoration.