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.