Pruning
If I pruned now
in the hotbed coals of summer heat
the sap would run, lapping at the trunk
trickling down the bark and diminish the bloom,
those hopeful dreams of next year growth
would easily fade away to leaves
and the flowering would disappear
so far now, after every rain
I hold myself back resisting
the growth spurts
of every bush and branch
waiting for the fall.
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