For Ronovan’s challenge. Not a haiku but a haibun. Not wanting to bore anyone with yet another haibun about spring (this is already the second in two days) I’m posting this one to the dverse prompt too.
The time has come for cutting, for taking knife and secateurs and chopping burgeoning vines sewn with buds bursting. Do they feel pain in this dismembering, or loss? Is it to heal the hurt that afterwards they shoot in such profusion from the wound? Grape vine and rose lay their last year’s vigour in the grass, shorn but not wasted. I cut again, trim, plant, and come spring, the force that drives the leaf will drive the root, and from one vine will grow a vineyard, one rose tree a hedge.
sun rides the sky
brigid’s fiery chariot
breaking winter’s spell