Behold the purple rippling fields
beneath the cresting sleepy sun.
The thistles with their spiny shields
are set to make their rivals run.
The thistledown like snow well-spun
traverse the skies to hug road kerbs.
Some flourish there while others shun;
to them, the toxic smog disturbs.
A noxious weed in some suburbs
and hunted down like animals,
in others they’re revered as herbs
and put on sale in carnivals.
It does not matter if you hate
the thistle or appreciate.
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