Wild Woman arrives at a hobble
to do serious battle with the Iris Bed.
"Oh, woe is I!" she mutters,
at the shocking sight.
The tangle of weeds is higher
than the fair Iris's head.
Errant fattened Dangerously Prickly
blackberry vines and assorted mayhem
proclaim Serious Neglect
has long overtaken the hidden blooms.
And, most frightening of all,
the Fair Iris is having the life
choked out of her
by the hideous, tightly twining Horrible Ivy,
whose death grip around Iris's throat
is so tight Iris can only utter
a faint, desperate "gleep, gleep",
which Wild Woman translates as
Wild Woman hoves to: At great personal risk,
she steps bravely into the tangled thorny patch.
She clips, she mutters, she heaves.
A satisfying pile of debris forms a mountain
of limp, expired weeds
and thorny vanquished branches
But! when she is done,
the Fair Iris stands proud and tall,
evidence of Persevering Midst Completely
She takes her first deep breaths.
She sways and preens.
She is Free At Last!
Liberation has likely never
felt so sweet.
And Wild Woman? Her back
fairly shrieking in protest,
smilingly hobbles away.
a poem from 2011, my friends, posted for Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.