Pruning the Orchard - May Sarton
Out there in the orchard they have come
To prune the overgrowth, cut back and free
The crisscrossed branches of apple and plum,
Shaping the formless back into symmetry.
They do not work for beauty's sake
But to improve the harvest come next year.
Each tough lopsided branch they choose to break
Is broken toward fruit more crisp and rare.
I watch them, full of wonder and dismay,
Feeling the need to shape my life, be calm,
Like the untroubled pruners who, all day,
Cut back, are ruthless. without a qualm.
While I, beleaguered, always conscience-torn,
Have let the thickets stifle peaceful growth,
Spontaneous flow stopped, stillborn,
Imagined duties, pebbles in my mouth.
Muse, pour strength into my pruning wrist
That I may cut away toward open space,
A timeless orchard, poetry-possessed,
There without guilt to contemplate your face.
