Early Summer Green

It’s rusty in the garage, that old power mower.

Fan belt and starter cord.

BBRRiiieeeeeeiiimmmmc-c -c ccc 

BRRRrrrrriiiiiiiiimBRUMMMmmmmmmmmm

Black noise, oily gas-- no sleeping in!

Dad, holding back the unleashed thing,

Keeping on track, alive with danger.

I think about those reel hand mowers--

Blades bent in tempered waves,

Snipping off the grass and clover. Push--Push, sticky with playng. 

Will you please mow the damn lawn?
Whirrr sc ccscscscscscssscciciciccc, whirr.

So much time invested

In this simple act of keeping up.

The soft and drying new mown streaks,

Those raked-up clippings, bubbly with summer,

That green, sweet, dewy smell of morning,

Dinner outside early in the afternoon.