I spent this day trimming trees.
I do not like losing the dead in me
or the shoots that suck the life
from where the growth should be.
To succumb to the Pruner is not an easy thing.
Often I find myself resisting
the gentle hand that only wishes to make my life fruit bearing.
But if I am to grow strong and true,
I must leave behind the broken yew
lest I die from a rotten core,
and the sap, my blood, become a bitter brew.