Paul Cech

The shrubs are trimmed

By hand...Clip! Clip!

Some part is always uneven

But that appeals to me

That is real to me


But millions strive for it

They see its fulfillment in wealth and fame

Workers who labor for decades

Just to make ends meet

Are seen as failures

All laborers

Who share

Who care

Are the ones who should receive banquets and accolades

Such is the dream of a fool

The dream of one who trims the shrubs by hand

Because it feels like a connection to some primordial past

When our existence depended on sharing

On caring

Fools and their dreams

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