That gangly stand of cedars, gone –
we cut them down.
With tooth-like blade,
our chainsaw brayed.

We tired of their overgrown
fern hands, up-thrown
to block our view
of avenue.

The yard looks bigger now, we claim,
and yet more plain.
We close our eyes,
rationalize.

02/06/2012

Author's Note: First published in The Lyric, 2010.

Posted on 02/07/2012
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