A thistle that looks up to no-one, nobody is his peer.
He stands tall, refined and proud, a warrior without fear.
Pollinator for butterfly, magnet for honey bee.
Carrying with him all the nectar, for me to be the best of me.
Looking out across the skyline, between margin of sea and land.
Gatekeeper to a higher realm, key-holder to elite band.
A regal head of purple, instils confidence through and through.
From here is ushered greatness, none more vibrant in his hue.
Stood upon the slanted ridge, updrafts spiral high.
Kestrels hover, buzzards soar, well beyond magpie.
Raven comes to raptor fight, seagulls glide on by.
Aerial combatants strive to be, masters of the sky.
Of the flowers down below, supremacy is more assured.
There is no match for this top gun, a status long endured.
A maverick amongst his prickled tribe, of nettle and of gorse.
His seeds scatter far and wide, of potent masculine force.
No place there is for the defeated, the criticised or controlled.
With this ally by your side, every maiden will be bowled.
Virility oozes from this plant, sexuality here in spades.
He is the master of his field, his legacy never fades.
By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020
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