The Gardener

Thin and lean he came to glean His sickle shining with the summer sheen My branches to trim and make me slim My roots to prod and soil to skim He tended to me as a mother would a child Apprising from afar and staring for a while Down came the pruner’s shears and he took a neat nip Threw aside the branch and took another dip He looked at me in pleasant satisfaction And gave me a small smile for a fraction Came the night watchman, my fears to amplify Plucked all my flowers, his deity to pacify Naked I stood, my beauty he took Should we not punish the disguised crook?