Hawthorn, hazel, blackthorn, spindle –
I’ve wrestled with you all day –
those thorns, long as a baby’s finger
finding my skin through shirt
and sweater, my blade splitting
your slim trunk, brute force bending you
from the vertical –
light questing, light driven –
to the horizontal.
I’m forming you into something
woven and useful, I’m following
a long tradition here, making
a living barrier against
all those hungry hunting things
that prowl in the wild,
keeping in the soft-skinned,
tame things. I divide
safety from danger,
home from strange.
You divide danger from safety,
strange from home,
with your stubborn strength,
your unwilded tangles,
this geometry we form together,
me following your lead,
you bowing to my will –
I’m cold and scratched and muddied,
and I’m satisfied. A good day’s work.
I’ve wrestled with you all day, my hedge,
my hawthorn, blackthorn, spindle, hazel,
winter warp and weft of wood. We’re done.
The dVerseprompt tonight is to use apostrophe – direct address, not punctuation.