They lay across the paddocks,
Jagged lines running across them,
Like the veins down your arms.
The leaves shout with all their enormity,
‘Hey you, come and get me.
See what I hide beneath my greenery.
My treasure can be larger than you,
Ageing with the wind blowing my way.
Or it is a small gem playing peek-a-boo.
You won’t know until you brush us away.’
They wink at you with morning dew.
The sun beating down,
Throwing a cascade of colours with the drops on every leaf.
The facade is broken,
When that knife come smacking down,
Slicing away under the head.
The leaves are left withered and slew,
But at least you’ll have broccoli as your five-a-day.
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