Fig – Ficus Carica
by Liz Kendall
How did those figs in recent times
Grow by the rivers of Sheffield?
A piece of Eden nourished by
Factory water, from bright steel.
*
Over the hot machines it flowed,
Brought warmth down to the river.
Unlikely Paradise sprang up,
Fig trees began to grow there.
Thanks to the bird that let seeds fall
To warmed earth where they rooted
Sheffield had fig trees, wing-sown, wild;
A miracle had fruited.
Fig’s flowers and fruits are kept concealed
Within the skin, a secret.
Then gentle hands reveal our heart;
It’s ripe, sweet, delicate.
Heat is the secret to our growth,
Our plants don’t like to shiver.
We’ll grow in warm and sunny lands
And by the steelwork’s river.
A wasteland is unloved, not doomed
To live empty forever.
With care and water it can thrive;
Dirt is not death, remember.
Assuming that all hope is lost
For you or for another
Ignores the miracle of life,
Of warmth, a chance-found mother.
Image by Leopictures from Pixabay