Pruning the rosebush 
the ache of the summer heat 
on my shoulders, 
the feel of the living stalk 
between fingers, 
petals - one, another, 
then another 
seek ground, life 
not strong enough to hold on. 

Whether it's blood 
or petals, the gift 
of time is a thread 
I stand on,
feet covered 
in the soft 
broken soil,
shears meet
the slight resistance 
of a living thing. 

 Jonathan Bohrn (2005)

pruning shears
archive graphic donated by Marko Tovares


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