The Invasive Landscaping Co-Manager


Each time she slips, my striving fancies start

To plot how I might prosper by her fall.

So sprouts choked out by arbors make an art

Of claiming back a spot reprieved from pall:

When suddenly some swollen tree collapses

And sinks its hulking tonnage into earth,

The air will shake—but scanty time elapses

Before pale sprigs start revving for rebirth.

Am I unkind? I simply need more space;

Her shady stretching violates this right.

I’ve hunkered close to soil—a sad disgrace

For herbage meant to muster lofty height.

My poor sad stems; my pining buds and leaves,

Attend my words: who strives, at last receives!

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