Wednesday, February 07, 2018

MOWING THE LAWN

It must be Saturday afternoon.
I hear the annoying, buzzing din
Of gas-drinking, grass-eating,
Cud-chewing monsters
Disturbing the neighborhood's quiet repose.

It can't be avoided, the dread obligation
Of suburban dwelling which no one enjoys.
Unlike the city where concrete and asphalt
Adorn every lawn and nothing grows.

In younger days it was not such a labor,
And I sometimes got paid when I hired out my service.
But now it seems that the lawn is mine,
And so is the weekly summertime chore.

I suppose someday I'll become one of those
Who hired kids like me for their dirty work,
So that I won't awake on Sunday morning
With joints that ache and muscles sore.


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Amazon Author's Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dennis-S-Martin/e/B004SXY4LG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1394055582&sr=1-2-ent

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