In the precision of a plastic surgeon
An artistic decision finds solace
The prickly palpitating pulsating pigmented lawn
Threaded through

To and fro
I mow
I mow
I mow
Grown forest to groomed meadow.

Bristly bush, triumphant arch
A routine march of willful hands
Fibers plied to create a tool
Fingers clench constrict contract

To and fro
I plough
I plough
I plough
Preened pasture from filthy fallow.

A profound pain unleashed
Followed by furrowed lines
Finally, the masterpiece revealed
Grimace turns to grin

To and fro
It grows
It grows
It grows
And once again – I shape the ‘brow.

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