The Bush

This weekend I mowed the lawn and cut limbs.

I ripped and clipped, and danced with the shadows to avoid the sun.

I said, "yes," to the man who drove by looking for work.

That was the end of the bush Ms. Rosie ever so sweetly suggested that I should tame in the short years I knew her before she died.

That was the end of being blocked from the full force of the shining sun and the antics of the street.

Now I will see everyone attempting to snatch figs from my tree.

Now the birds will have to limit their roosting to the bushes.

J.S.