Like bumblebees, tumultuous sounds hum
I've clipped thorns, slight imperfections and some
Specific leaves its growth could not avert
I've pruned for hours - my fingers've gone numb
Winds sharply whip about my loosened shirt
All one could smell is creation and dirt
The strength of ages presented anew
A bond with innocence, lasting and curt
It's time to stretch my aching back and view
The violent clouds forming, a storm may brew
I count those lovely petals...now there are five
The roots are digging in stronger now too
As guardian, I feel strangely alive
I am unsure the squall will let you thrive
However, now's the time to step aside
In darkness' shadow can orchids survive?
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