Friday, February 6, 2009

Poetry Friday - Husbandry


If you will plant me on your windowsill
and shine your gentle face on me each morning
you may shape my growth to please yourself
and I will do my best to like it

I will hold still
while you trim me with a scissors
clipping my oddness away
like the gardeners who produced trees
in the shapes of hearts and chickens

but somewhere inside --
I can't help it --
I will nurture secretly
the wild growth, the craziness
you can't prune away

[1977 or 1978]