Last autumn I was too severe
when fighting back the neighbor’s brambles
that had crept beyond the fence.
Brambles that were suffocating lawn,
entangling the mower when it passed near,
threatening to expand the neighbor’s yard
        through my lack of diligence.

Dead, yet not defeated,
its height collapsed onto my lawn
collecting leaves, plastic bags,
and a nest – five eggs bountiful –
laid bare when I trimmed back
the lifeless, spreading, brambles
to free the grass beneath.

Now, the well-trimmed grass
grows in mute disconsolation
beneath the denuded eggs
their mottle bleaching
in the brightness of the vernal sun.