This exaggerated woman
Wasn't pruned right
She sprouts all sorts of odd branches
Water roots
Cry of thirst.
She vows,
Tomorrow they'll prune me
Like a disciplined tree.
Remove her from the scenery,
Say the superintendents of nature,
She spoils the line,
The water budget of half a nieghborhood
Is wasted on her
Even a river wouldn't be enough for her.
It doesn't matter, someone says,
In one of the driest summers
I saw several small birds
Hiding in the shade of her odd branches.
It was the only shade in the whole area.
Shade! spit the gardeners with disdain,
She doesn't know how to be a rounded palm-tree
Or a square Ficus
Or an upright Cypress on the way to the cemetery.
And I'm thinking...
If you ask me she hasn't a chance.
But I don't say it out loud
Don't tell
Maybe they'll forget.
Our gardeners, after all,
Are so busy.

 
- Yehudith Kafri