To My Neighbor as He Downs Trees
There’s enough order, enough
concrete. The stumps you left
say, We’re all stranded here, won’t
get out alive. So, take these shears,
worn at the knuckle, snip under
a node, then place in water until
a life forms. This lay Hippocratic
is all we can offer: yes, do no harm,
but also, some good. So, put down
that chainsaw. The waste of your
lawn has given way to clover — we’ll
find a four-leaf if we search together.
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