Wednesday 16th August 2017
Drifting through the sky like snow,
A flurry of thistle seeds dance in the sky.
Waiting to land and hoping to sow,
Where they will for a year dormant lie.
Upon the first anniversary green leaves spread,
By the rain and sunshine they are fed,
And by the next year each has a nodding head.
Each violet flower can bear a seed,
Pollinated by hundreds of busy bees.
Though many think of this plant as a weed,
For the sake of invertebrates spare them please.
Crafted by our super talented wordsmith and Woodland Supervisor Tom Cowley