Two octogenarians, on a whim,

decided to cut back two hydrangeas,

he with loppers, she with clippers,

on a sunny day hinting of spring.

Ended up cutting back four hydrangeas,

a crepe myrtle without crepe “murder,”

an assortment of ferns and coral bells.

He stood on a chair but did not fall

and she reveled in crocuses moved

last year, blooming hellebores, and 

budding Carolina jasmine climbing

the pergola. Afterwards there were 

aches and pains, but souls were fed

by new life pushing through the dirt.