Our Better, Nature
We hoard her in our gardens where we force her into plots,
confine her in our vases, crowd her into pots.
Ambitious men plan towers—trade grass and trees for gold.
They overlook one simple fact. We’re all in nature’s hold.
Man’s illustrious plots and schemes always come to naught,
for the power of nature can’t be sold or bought.
I found it in the city, extending from the curb—
a simple little chain of green, a subtle rus-in-urbe.
Where men would install order, nature overrules.
Those trying to best nature are always proven fools.
For eons, we have buried her, time and time again.
Yet still she prods up from her grave. Nature will always win.
The prompt words today are order, hoard, illustrious and rus-in-urbe.