Hedge-trimming

A friend was ill so I lent a hand,

Outdoor chores no longer unmanned.

Vital stuff done, I’m still raring to go:

“Go trim the hedges before we get snow.”

I’d never done that ever in my life,

But oversized scissors can’t be harder than a knife.

I get to work on a the rightmost hedge,

Examining thoroughly to find the right edge.

I start cutting and keep at it till

It’s become a ball that would roll down a hill.

That was too easy. Next! I get to work,

I get it: A droplet. And I go berserk.

Ten minutes later, what do I see,

The shape of rain that tickles every bee.

The third and biggest bush is all that remains.

I think of a shape and with great birthing pains

I remember the words of Antoine de Saint

And get to work without any restraint.

After the inspiration I take a look,

At what I accomplished, how much it took.

“A ball, a droplet, a bush no more…”

I breathe in and report on the chore.

“It’s done and now I’ll think I’ll leave.”

Almost round the block and then, I believe

I hear a shriek that could curdle blood.

I guess he saw what was nipped in the bud.

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Rain surfing

When it rains and you’re just a bug,

You’d think the droplets would give you a tug

Or even worse, they’d make you crash,

But no, most people would pay good cash

To surf on them like mosquitoes do,

As they home in on me and on you too.

Big fat droplets or the tiniest drizzle

Will not cause them to plummet and fizzle.

I think they enjoy it, they like it alright,

They must do it in secret in the short summer night.

None of us around, they organize a school

“Surf in the air: Even you can be cool!”