The noisy lawn

Sometimes I mow the lawn
the opposite way to
cope with the monotony
or I do the edges first
along the flowerbeds
around the cedars and
the big silver maple that
stands like God at the corner
of Millview and Arthur
the idea always to
shorten the unending hour
that I must push the mower
sometimes it works
sometimes I go elsewhere
revisiting old friends
in far off places or
composing a list
of things for dinner
the hour can pass in a song
that never stops playing
a letter I will never
write to the editor
or in a flash as when
I have mowed each inch
across the face of
the haughty director
I was once required
to work with – though
that was long ago when
I allowed him for a time
to live rent free in my head
the lawn is devious
it has a button
that it turns up slowly
a little each day
until the weekend arrives
and the noise is deafening
thus, I turn it down again

© 2011