Here’s another charming poem from Nizgal (whose Sheep from Oats I put on the blog last year) – he has belatedly got in touch, very nice to hear from him.
At the Cutting Edge
Crabwise from side to side, cutting the hedge;
Once done on ladders, garden shears in hand,
Now cherry-pickers give a cutting edge,
As powered trimmers sweep the green grandstand;
A steady pace per hour. Loose clippings sold
To pharmaceuticals, the plants and lab,
Where yew extract is worth its weight in gold,
And hope to those now pincered by the crab.
That battle is engaged, though some would say,
It’s fought on ladders with old-fashioned tools.
They desperately look forward to the day
When new discoveries rewrite the rules.
The yearly picture serves to underline
The tolling bell could be both yours and mine.