It's that time of year again!
The fella from the County Council has been transforming our Park/Woodland into a maze of
woodsy-wildflower trails. Am posting a revised version of poem I wrote for him last year.
THE STYLIST
Nobody sees
him shave his trails
But in the evening they are there
Turning our park woodland into a
gallery
Of buzz cuts, long and short.
Opening up our possibilities.
Giving us choices we never knew we
had.
A high taper with scalp exposure in
front of the big Ash.
To the left, a clean shaven trail
that cuts through fields of daisies.
And, to the
right, a razed trail that weaves and curves
Through common vetch, its clinging
tendrils wrapped
Around its neighbours. A mane with
shaved sides circles
The Beech, enticing us past stinging
nettles
That skirt a hedge of bramble, not
yet ripe, and ribwort plantain,
its ovary capsules spilling seeds at
our feet.
Or past a butch cut that slices
through a clump of dandelion,
Their jagged teeth, dents-de-lion,
in various stages of growth;
Some bright yellow heads threatening
closure
With the
scent of rain, and gossamer balls of seeds
Shedding themselves in our wake.
A stroke of
his blade
And a stubble path is shaven with
precision
Through tall grass sporting hogweed five
feet tall.
A V
junction creates a crown of creeping buttercups
Drawing the eye to a newly planted Oak.
He’ll be back tomorrow, or the day
after, or the day after that.
Restyling and regrooming our park.
The man on
the grass mower tractor
From Dunlaoghaire-Rathdown County
Such a happy piece!
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