Unwelcome Immigrants

By John I. Blair

Small world that it is
However wide the oceans
Soon or late
Every species gets a chance
To immigrate.

Some dance across
Tide-washed strips of land,
Some are blown on gales of wind,
Some brave waves in flimsy craft
While others hitch a ride in.

The news is filled with tales
Of those who show
And are not welcomed --
Flee famine, war, then find a door
Closed in their face, or slammed.

Less infamous, perhaps,
Are those who have arrived
Without being vetted,
Tended at first,
Later just a bit regretted.

They number in the thousands;
Tossed in salads, slurped
From silver spoons,
Admired in crystal vases,
Trod on in lawns.

Maybe some of these
Languished once as well
Under highway bridges,
In river-bottom mud
Or roadside ditches.

Plants they say
Need 500 years
To earn acceptance;
How many are required
For humans?

©2021 John I. Blair 9/25/2021