The grass is always higher on my side of the fence.
At first glance to you it won’t make any sense.
Why is starting a mower harder than starting a blender?
It’s useless to pout and blame it on gender.
The battery’s not dead – that’s easy to hear
But it won’t be long till it is, I fear.
Countless tries make it and me tired.
Would be great to say on first try it fired.
Mowing’s a favorite chore of mine;
Beats inside chores any of the time
Though evidence doesn’t match this sentiment
As vegetation soars from vanishing sediment.
So I muster the energy to use a push mower.
No motor means it’s quiet but oh so much slower.
By the time I finish one complete round
For sure the starting point can’t be found.
The sounds of the blades remind me of Dad –
Linking chains of smiles for all the fun we had
In city yards. While we played as he mowed
Seeds of precious memories were sowed.
Wild flowers I haven’t seen in a while
Remind me of Mom and make me smile.
Those tiny blossoms normally don’t peek
Through sheared blades in a lawn low and sleek.
As spring rains fall I hear the grass grow
And some remarking why doesn’t she mow
Don’t worry I am doing just that.
You may not hear it and I won’t get fat.
My face will be red but not from blushing.
My clothes will be wet but not from splashing
In the cool of the Current while riding a boat.
Could now be the time to get a pet goat
PS. If you notice some strange punctuation practices here
my comma only works when I hold one of the spacers down and then I get a gillion of them.
