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Scythe's Nursery

Merciful Pruning

By Sara WynnPublished 11 months ago 1 min read
Scythe's Nursery
Photo by Dewang Gupta on Unsplash

Saccharine Scythe, thank you for pruning me;

savagely setting the snakes out to sun,

shaking the fragrant shadows out to run,

sifting out those weeds that were grooming me;

salvaged, now, the sight of the setting sun,

a sight the stagnant had since overrun.


A murder no longer circling me;

all things buried properly, where they should

be, nothing here taking shelter that should

not be, no scavengers above, swarming;

where the overbearing overgrowth would

be, nothing here taking shelter that could

stop me; no barriers now, to growing.


The river that slithers through the slanting,

scouring and scarring barren, clay burnt hills;

the wind that barrels through with shrieking shrill,

humming locusts foreboding, and chanting,

the winter that returns for chilling thrill;

none of this here, strange; none of this here will

stop me from thriving in Scythe's nursery.

surreal poetrysocial commentarynature poetryinspirational

About the Creator

Sara Wynn

Poetry is my language, and Earth is my playground.

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