Haiku: Coming Up Roses

The various brambles and briars on the farm are the very epitome of resilience – and quiet anger. They seem to invite one to brush up, even if unintentionally, against a tendril so those long, sharp thorns can get a bite of flesh. They’re so adept at scratching me that I sometimes wonder if they’re actually moving when I’m not looking – getting closer, smirking, and then grabbing.

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