Last March I planted bushes round my yard
Five feet apart. I knew the neighbors would look in,
And people driving down the boulevard.
Plenty of room for gossip over gin.

But I figured in a year each bush would grow
Thick enough to touch another one,
The two now intermingling, branches so
Close one ended past where one’d begun.

Time does that, I thought: Makes things come
Together. A year’s enough. Lucky for me!
Here we are, all intermingled, some
Clothes awry, enjoying our privacy!