
New Novel Writer
The Hawthorn
Words of appreciation
by John Morey Copyright 2022
I am everywhere
But I am usually ignored -
Even though I do have value to many,
If only they would ask.
​
Unlike the oak I lack stature so,
To compensate, I abound in numbers
and sometimes form a whole hedgerow.
It's the berries that attract attention
Albeit, mainly from birds.
For food.
​
But the wily schoolboy is sometimes the first
To feast on my bounty. My leaves. On his way home.
In early Spring I am green and fresh,
A treat that many children tease
Their friends - with 'bread and cheese'.
(At least, that's what we called it.)
​
In spite of such earlier recognition of me and my worth,
Later, very few go on to use my berries thereafter.
For preserves; for salads; even for wine.
Or - most important - medicinally.
​
Maybe they should.
(As did their forefathers.)

Among humankind I have my counterpart.
Abundant. Everywhere.
Like me - largely overshadowed
By the more vociferous; by the bold; by the gregarious.
Even by the needy - seeking others' approval.
​
Yes. My human equivalent exists aplenty.
Offering shade and shelter - even nourishment
to those around.
(But more so of the spiritual kind.)
​
However, like me they may often be cut; dispensed with; Replaced.
Or simply ignored.
​
I'm not sure which is the more unjust.
​
The Hawthorn image courtesy of
Unsplash and Yoksel Zok