Hedge Laying
Chop, chop, crack, snap
Pull the stem firmly back,
Bend and twist, fold and weave, Then step back, admire, and leave.
Moving slowly along the line,
Fix recalcitrant boughs with twine, contemplative work and gentle strain, Ease the mind and calm the brain.
The birds fly down as if to see, What goes on, between tree and me. No mechanical trimmer here, thrashing twigs and hewing clear.
Working with the natural form,
with ancient tools, gnarled and worn. There is for me no better way,
to spend a bright cold winters day.
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