Early poem today
All the neighbors, the men,
have got an urge to prune.
Starts with some study —
careful study, and clippers,
pruners and chainsaws.
Bonsai topiary to its conclusion
nothing to impede the mower.
My next door neighbor is
exercising his right to prune
the bushes overhanging his fence.
freed limbs knocking against wood
he pulls the invasive grape
which no doubt gnaws him
in my careless disregard.
I listen to the determined tale
of man against nature and bush,
sitting against the car, brushes
and paints arrayed before me,
warm coffee, sun in my eyes
beholden to the spread of
daffodils and brown garden
hidden from the pruner,
organizing his world differently
while I do my poor best to
quickly capture mine on paper
as the light moves even faster
we each bend to the task at hand
on either side of his tall fence
