She had enjoyed sweet certain knowledge that,
however hot the summer, August brought
its welcome snows upon a boundary fence
that she had kept to please her neighbors, too.
Although she had not sown its vines, she had
allowed that fence its luscious covers, had
declined to prune the annual tendrils so
that years could boost the bounties of the white
and snowy blossoms butterflies and bees,
too, found refreshing in the August heat
at last about the inconsiderate weeds.
Embarrassed she had thought the worthless good,
she used her swing blade as a neighbor should.