98poems/bluejay

A blue jay hops down
from the bare acacia,
hacked back to a silhouette
lacking leaf, or bloom,
or branch.
He scans his scene, deciding
on the neighbor’s chimney
instead of the tree.
I too have felt the
disappointment of foliage
clipped harshly back.
There are many who think
a hard pruning is the only way
a pruning can be.
But the severity pains me,
I gently wiggle a leaf free
if it is ready,
clip only the most dangerous
branch which threatens the tree.
I have always been a Zen gardener,
I am good at hand work,
small details.
Picking up leaves in tight places,
which can’t be gotten to
with a rake.

4/17/98