Pruning and Poetry

I write, he prunes,
The Granny Smith, the fig, the lilac bush.
Pruning, like writing poetry, is a solitary and reflective occupation.

This precise word placed exactly,
Here,
Will it replicate the image I have created in my head?
Evoke the emotions fruiting in my heart?

A cut placed precisely,
Here,
Will it transform this tree into the perfect bowl,
He has mentally conjured in his head?
Has he left enough new wood,
To bear the fruit of next Summer?