Herrick Muses While Pruning Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

Herrick Muses While Pruning



My girls soon grow, increase in height
then steer to weedy left or right.
Each stem will veer or fork or shove:
in hell, roots wind; blooms nod above;
a cherry twist, some salad tossed,
view vine's curled prime and apples sauced;
this raised-up maze, foul thicket's clog,
stalks drop, like logs, while pond drips bog.
So tipsy, crooked- rant! berate!
Know plants must slant: no maid goes straight!

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