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tall poppy
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backburner results
Tall Poppy
It rose without counsel,
a stalk among stubble,
like a wedge of cheese
left on the board—
plain, unadorned,
yet singular.
Hail struck,
water swelled,
drought cracked the soil,
fire licked the horizon.
Still it stood,
rooted in its own narrow claim.
But malice—
that quiet hand with the blade,
that whisper in the furrow—
cut deeper than frost,
spread faster than blight.
No storm could level it so cleanly,
no flood could wash it away so quick.
And so the lesson lingers:
the world may batter,
the seasons may scour,
but envy, sharpened,
is the truest scythe.
.
