BONSAI

The reading of old poems

Reminds me of my tuning

When I was just a sapling,

For wiring and for pruning.

In humus of experience

And sunlight inspiration;

Clipping excess buds,

Enhancing a creation.

Filling out a form,

Finding a strong pot,

Damping dehydration,

Drying out root rot.

And I, like stunting a tree,

Will not stop shaping me.

26/07/93 - The growing of bonsai was a childhood hobby of mine. I wrote this poem after looking at the many poems I had written and rejected before it.