Claire, there is a wilderness here,
a thicket untouched by razors\' diplomacy.
Its wildness pulls me to its center,
where shadows nestle and softness reigns.
I find it absurd how often the world,
tries to trim its forests to obedience.
But gazing here feels ancient, eternal—
like stumbling upon a mythic grove.
Your sister, Blair, a meadow by contrast,
bare as bone, clear to the horizon.
Yet I wandered back to your labyrinth,
to the intimate whisper of tangled branches.
There’s a freedom in your refusal to yield,
a rebellion I’ve learned to admire.
Not just the bush, but the declaration,
the defiance against the pruning shears.
And so, I grin like a mad botanist,
digging for treasures among the bramble.
Unkempt, unapologetic, deeply alive—
a forest only the bold could cherish.