A Return to Nature

My lawn mower is on vacation, I expect

basking in the sun with the other mowers,

garden tractors, and weed whackers

down at the repair shop where I took him

a couple weeks ago when he refused to work,

despite my coaxing, a pay raise even, and a curse

or two. With the rain we’ve had lately, the grass

is enjoying his absence, growing, as they say,

“like a weed.” I told my wife I was thinking

of letting the yard go back to its natural state,

to the meadow and forest that it was

before the ground was cleared and the cabin built,

hand hewn logs taken from the land where it sits.

Besides, I was getting used to the lushness of the grass

and enjoyed the wildflowers growing there, the paint-brushes,

yellow and orange, the buttercups and daisies, even

the dandelions turning to seed and blowing around,

wishes to come true and true love discovered, or not.

I suggested the new growth of trees sprouting up

would provide shade for us in the years to come,

if we lived long enough, or for the generations ahead;

I even calculated the money we’d save without

the weekly mowing, the yearly maintenance, and pointed out

the wildlife that would visit our yard, entertaining us.

But she prefers a well-cut lawn, smartly trimmed,

the smell of new-mown grass, her favorite summer scent,

and her look said it all; a quick call to Brad

with a promise of our mower’s return in a couple days

and a fresh tank of gas awaiting its return,

I prepared myself for the task ahead,

that weekly mowing of the lawn under a hot summer sun,

the sweat dripping down my face and back, the itch

of grass clipping plastered to my legs, and I envied

my lawn mower, gone these two weeks, basking in the sun

among the other mowers, garden tractors, and weed whackers,

old friends, not working, out of gas, and, perhaps, retired.