I dug the whole hole for that last scrubby shrub.
Busted birchy bones to get in.
Warm wiggly worms waggled their surprise.
Put peat partly into the mix,
Tamped the topsoil tightly down.
Aggravated army of ants on the march
On skin they tickle
like drops that trickle.
At last, with a drench,
and pardon my French,
I curse with the worst malediction.
And, swatting the ants
that have crawled up my pants,
I perform it-
A shrub’s benediction.