of summer past
(and eye spy labs, in reflective skies)
sway, staggering criss-crossing
on gravel beds.
grey ghosts of awkward abundance
turned to standing rows and ranks of rust
& blown bronze bodies.
crumpling corpses of modified monsters
tickled by electric buzzing birds.
held aloft to brittle breezes, by
the roar and rattle of raging unborn
generations, susurrate in seed pods,
bags, purses, and carapaces.
In death they stand, shaken
to ensure the staggering mutated march
of infertile generations.
The inspiration for this strange piece came from a visit to a farm where seed is collected from parent plants to produce F1 Hybrids for the commercial vegetable grower.