By Sherin Shefik
Some say you were one of the last
Native species to colonise Britain.
But when you arrived
You really did arrive
Pushing everyone else off their royal pedestals.
You did not doubt your soul’s purpose
Or quiver at your own shadow.
You colonised the
Wet fertile British soils.
You trusted that it was your time
To rise up, to rein, and to rule.
You lay your magisterial roots
Deep and interconnected.
You stood rooted
So poised and strong
That the patriarchy could not
Take your power away from you
Even with their blooded chainsaw.
You made yourself a crown
A dense halo with layer upon layer of
Shimmering emerald jewels
Towering above and beyond
All other living species.
And there you remain
In your equitable throne.
Your Royal Highness Queen Beech.