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.