Pruning the feral plum,

the one that skulks in chook yard,

that stalks, then mantis-stabs

with spiteful spikes,

poisons flesh.

Feeding leafy trimmings

to feasting sheep.

Those vicious pikes – frontline

defence present no problem

to browsing beasts.

They winkle out green leaves,

tease grape-clustered, wild fruitlets

from stem, Martini 'em – tart

olive from toothpick slid.

Tomorrow,

I will gather stripped branches,

bundle and store in shed.

Next year's kindling.