Battle in the Bushes

From the center of our solar system
the sun glisters on the leaves
in the back of this garden.

These plants need to leave.
They can leave but they can never be lost.
They will forever be of this biosphere,
if I rip them out or not.

So I dig deeper with the shovel
Strong roots grip the soil.

Wild roses scratch my arms, hold my legs.
Tangle me up with their flimsy thorns.

Whoever lived in these cherry bushes
I hope they’ve found a new home
Because the axe is the only tool that meets the challenge.

Once again I feel like a natural man.
No more questions, your honor.
No more superficial worries.
Just happiness.

Photo source: Pixabay

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