I delay the moment, paused, clippers in hand,
local fire marshal demands I clip lower branches
from the pine to make us safe –
fear of a spectral spark
driven by the howling Santa Ana winds.
But those lovely limbs, full of springy life
sit innocent, unaware of my murderous intent.
How often, in a brief life, do we make
such life-or-death decisions for creatures,
other than ourselves, creatures not torn
by internal conflict, creatures that simply
Are.
When we thin the radishes, the arugula,
which hopeful sprout do we wrench and toss?
To promote the other?
What of the ground squirrel that savors
my tomato? Must he go too? Is his life settled by
my hunger or arbitration?
The price of his life?
When I was a child, my brother told my mother:
“She cries when she walks outside because
she feels sorry for the grass.”
A budding Jainist in a Colorado chinook.
How does one decide ethics
of poisoning the ant to save the eggplant?
Who is the victor and who is the damned?
Is it a question of who or what serves me?
and where do I fit in,
in this war between what is desired
and who wins the spoils?
Still paused, I watch the supple limbs, green
and proud, bounce and shake
as the breeze tickles them to life.
I fling the clippers into the tall grass
Hope I didn’t hit a cocoon or beetle,
Leap from stone to stone until
I’m safe inside.
Just Carrie 
You are a truly beautiful soul, Carrie. Loved this poem. I hope your hand is healing. Thinking of you.
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Wonderful!! Something I ponder myself I miss laughing with you Thinking about a visit
With Kindness, Janine
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Love it! This gives me such a sense of you, Carrie. (I’m in the midst of pruning the garden myself this month. And yes, sometimes it’s hard to cut away what’s alive…) XOXO Michelle
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❤️❤️❤️
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❤️❤️
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Good job, Carrie. And don’t forget: Something is deciding those ethics about *us*, too.
Well done giving “Are” its own line (end of second verse).
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Dear Carrie,  What a lovely poem! Thank you.   It brought into my weakening memory some passages written by Rosa Luxemburg when she was in prison. Imagine her pondering such things, shut behind bars, while gigantic political events raged outside!   So, I thought you might enjoy them, feel some extra bonds with this great sister of the revolution.
Pete
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I will read her work! Thank you Pete
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So nice. It is You!
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Beautiful!
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Spot on!
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Lovely, Carrie.
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“She cries when she walks outside because
she feels sorry for the grass.”
This line! Thanks for this beautiful poem, Carrie. Raising awareness, paying attention.
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So lovely and thoughtful, Carrie.
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Once again you have inspired me. I have disassembled the lawnmower and will never again tread, even lightly, off the worn path of life.
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Once again you have inspired me. I have disassembled the lawnmower and will never again tread, even lightly, off the worn path of life.
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Another great one Carrie. I’m so proud of you and admire how you’re dedicating yourself to developing your wonderful talent.N
Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android
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