Poem: The Gardeners

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Photo by Gravitylicious.com on Pexels.com

All they care about is the lawn and the hedge;
the sight of a weed, a dandelion,
and all hell breaks loose
until it is removed, destroyed.
Three times a year
the evergreen hedge is trimmed,
a martial operation of precision and angst –
I can almost predict the day.
But who am I to judge,
peering through net curtains
at life’s absurdities
and the pointlessness of it all?

copyright Francis Barker 2019

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