Day the thirtieth

Today the prompt is write about something that returns.


Back again

Each year as the spring creeps into
Winter's room, and slowly pushes
Aside the dead twigs and leaves,
There appear on the hillside some
Alien lives, emerging from the ground
As rain and sunlight draws them up
And unwinding as little monstrous
Stems and growing deer horns.
And each year I start by stamping on
Each one that I see and try to hold
Back the inexorable march of
The army of
Bracken!

It is a battle I always lose,
And I always shall.