When the branches were heavy
The berries were fat and the
Blackbirds, sparrows, robins
And others got fatter and fatter.
The cold is creeping
The machines are creeping
Nearer, the hedger sharpens his tools
My branches – so light, no berries
Can’t feel the weight – lost
to the hedger’s blade.
It’s even colder now, the mist
Is chill, freezing and the spider
Webs are hung with crystals, as
The haw frost loosens its grip.
I am still. Waiting,
Waiting for the rain, the snow,
Sleet a ‘mixture’ on the wind,
More snow, silent, so wonderfully
Quiet, covering softly, gently layering
I am not so cold.
The rain, washing away the snow,
the dust, the broken twiglets.
Drip, Drip, Drip – soaking my feet,
Getting to my roots, my inner self.
Thirsty for this fresh, clean water
I drink more, I grow warmer,
Warm, warm through every bit of me,
Stretching, reaching, all the way.
The sun is warm and clear,
Warm sunshine meets my warm branches,
Twigs feel ready to face the sun
Leaves burst from twiggy budlets to take a look,
At the new bright year.
Now I can dress in my showy best
Put on my creamy, scented cover.
All along arching branches,
shaking, drifting in happy spring breezes,
dipping, dancing, dazzling the bees.
How the bees love my new clothes,
Dipping, hovering, visiting and
Lazily buzzing, what pleasure.
Ladybirds find refuge in my new leaves and
My blossom is a camouflage for new bird
Nests bearing eggs and new life.
Slowly my best dress begins to fall,
Now I am all green again,
Green leaves, berries and heavy arms
raised to the Summer sun.
by Josephine Hewitt
I think Josephine has really managed to see the world from the hedge’s point of view. Do you?