Chilling winds slice through the branches
of the Black Locust.
Needle like limbs twist themselves
around a fresh rabbit hole
a soft place for its babies to lay
Now they’ll sleep on the matted grass
away from its continuous vanquish

Invasive seedlings storm the valleys
Evergreen ash settles to the ground
Locust spread their thriving roots
pining for fresh decay
The locust are quite beautiful
Only from ironic disguise
A place of life, now a valley of shadows
An engulfing estate, no more.

Spiny thorns prick our fingers
planting roots inside us all

Locust, feeding of the vulnerable
Twisting limbs around the truth
Seeds plant in adolescent minds
making us ashes too.

Oh, Black Locust
you’ve choked out every acre,
uprooted every plant
one inevitable prick of your malicious limb
to catch the contagion all over again.