This time of year I carry clippers when I walk the trails
Green explosions create havoc
With sprawling tendrils encroaching on crushed gravel paths
Branches shaking hands overhead
To make arched tunnels
That I trim judiciously to bikini line smoothness
I watch for outliers and beachhead seekers
Clipping as I walk through an eruption of spring growth
Liking the rough margins
Blurred edges
That dog this trail
Kept in check by clipped edits and marginal notations
David Trudel © 2013
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