![](https://cdn.statically.io/img/ayearofreading.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/img_1476-1.jpg?w=1024)
Chicory
by John Updike
Show me a piece of land that God forgot—
a strip between an unused sidewalk, say,
and a bulldozed lot, rich in broken glass—
and there, July on, will be chicory,
its leggy hollow stems staggering skyward,
its leaves rough-hairy and lanceolate,
like pointed shoes too cheap for elves to wear,
its button-blooms the tenderest mauve-blue.
(the rest is here)
We’re in full-on chicory season and I love it. I’d head over to the railroad tracks and dig some up to plant in my garden…if it weren’t for that last line of the poem.
Such a great reminder to let the wild be wild and meet it on ITS terms, rather than on our human terms. Such a great reminder to BE wild and thrive in whatever sidewalk crack we’re given.
What does July mean to YOU, where YOU live?
(When I did a google search for this poem, I was amused to find that I had posted it almost exactly 10 years ago on the original A Year of Reading blog. That’s when I chose the chicory for the background of Poetrepository, which is in dire need of updating.)
Margaret has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Reflections on the Teche.