Maze

This maze is
                                 High-walled, ivy-leaved
                                 And  I do not hold
                                 A map.

                                 Thus I must
^                                Negotiate my way free
                                 Of such strong well-grown
                                 Reality

                                 Efficiently
                                 Hemming-me   with its
                                 Twists and turns, neat
                                 Angled lines and doggedness

                                 Each turn a major
                                 Decision-making exercise
                                 Of battlement
                                 So easily dead-ended

                                 In blank straight walls
                                 Of greenery thick
                                 And  unyielding.
                                 It suckers me

                                 With its silly shining leaves
                                 All smug and close.  Now  if
                                 I had shears 1 could be
                                 Wielding them obliquely, being

                                 Tangential and derisory -
                                 I could chop my way  out
                                 Cut  a straight line through the crap
                                 Give two fingers to this

                                 Puzzle of scenery by
                                 Hacking a tunnel straight
                                 Through  this bright tree
                                 Trap, and see my way  rosy.

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