Herbal Compound Invaded by Flowers

This heap overgrown with wildflowers—
Which we would prefer you didn’t pick,
To preserve the overall effect—

Grew in a hedge of the cloudy banks
Of our smoky-hearted galaxy.
It bears no relation to the stream.

Its herbs were planted with a purpose,
But their medicines were uncertain
And were eventually abandoned.

For a while it was a compost heap,
Then a cenotaph, a tumulus,
And, gradually, an earthwork serpent,

A leviathan along the shore,
If seen whole, from above, in outline.
This emergent form was not the plan—

The monster was something that happened
In consequence of sufficient years
Of local, minor activities.

It’s useless as an herbal garden,
And the contents of its tombs decay.
Who knows who the cenotaph was for?

It’s mostly a mound of wildflowers,
Which we would prefer you didn’t pick,
To preserve the overall effect.