I don’t remember
\nthat it used to be so hard
\nto cut this lawn<\/p>\n
I can remember cutting all around
\nthe place in a morning
\nand that was before mowers were
\nas light and the blade was all hacked
\nand chewed \u2014 but it was easier<\/p>\n
The slope was less then, too
\nI’m sure and the sun
\nthe sun was certainly not this hot
\nsure it’s global warming
\nplanet’s going to hell the hard way
\nI recall swinging around this tree
\nlike it was a race
\nsmelling the fresh-cut turf was a pleasure
\nkind of a rich sweet warmth
\nburgeoned by the sun<\/p>\n
Now here I am sitting like a time out
\nin the shade on this poor old table
\nlike an old stud panting after
\njust looking over the pasture
\nfrom the barn door<\/p>\n
Wife offers me a glass of water
\ntime was it would be a cool beer
\nnot now
\nnow I have to watch the calories
\ncalories is something I could use
\nright about now<\/p>\n
Right about now
\nI could use a few sips of suds<\/p>\n
I recall a day
\nheck it was over thirty years ago
\nstepped into a little pub
\nin Niagara On The Lake
\nhot day
\nI was waiting while the
\nteachers in the course I was running
\nattended a play
\nhad to give my ticket
\nto a foolish woman
\nchanged her mind
\nat the last moment
\ndraft beer was fifteen cents
\nthose little tapered glasses
\nthey used in the men’s rooms
\nbarren affairs
\nlittle round tables
\nfor hard drinking
\nI ordered one, downed it
\nthen another and another
\nsoon some amazed gent
\nbought me a tray full
\nsaid he’d never seen such a thirst
\nwent down like air into lungs
\nafter a while
\nI didn’t miss that play in the least
\nbody absorbed a tableful in a couple of hours<\/p>\n
Couldn’t do that today
\nnot even those little
\nfifteen cent glasses<\/p>\n
be lying under this table<\/p>\n
Yet each time I cut this grass
\nI seem to return
\nto the same place in time
\njust feeling it differently
\nsometimes its harder
\nsometimes its sweeter
\nsometimes I can
\nhear those voices weaving through
\nthe roar of the motor
\nHey daddy roar supper time roar
\nI see a little puppy near the edge of vision
\nburied under this very grass now
\nI see the faces just at the side
\nin the taller grass
\nall gone
\nI feel like a jog over to the sunrise
\nbut it’s late afternoon
\nI want to hear the little voices playing Barbie
\nor truck war or a screen door slam
\nand sandy feet running to the bathroom
\nbut they all have things to do
\nthings about their cycles of work
\nand planting and cutting
\nand making<\/p>\n
I get tired sometimes
\nlet the grass go
\nit can wait for tomorrow<\/p>\n
I reach for the water
\nand take a sip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I don’t remember that it used to be so hard to cut this lawn I can remember cutting all around the place in a morning and that was before mowers were as light and the blade was all hacked and … Continue reading