I work to get my plants just so;
I snip and trim and tend.
For if I let them simply grow,
watering now and then,
they would go all over the place!
Who knows what would happen?
In this labor I find solace,
a peace approaching Zen.
Yet it meddles in their nature,
to make them twist and bend
into the shapes that I prefer,
not what they were given.
I fear for what has got wrung out
and lost in the bargain.
Then a humming bird comes, and shouts,
the holiness regained.
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