Deere
John
All
day the mowers hum
making
me deaf and numb.
I
can’t hear the cardinals
warning
each other of hawks,
I
can’t trace the sweet smells
of
coneflower or prairie phlox.
The
dust billows over my fence
trailing
butterflies torn from solace.
Thick
exhaust makes me swoon
as
my head fills like a balloon.
From
dawn to dusk, and a little later,
I
feel trapped inside my house,
unaware
of what I’m missing.
If
only I had a sledgehammer
to
carefully, subtly announce—
look
at what we’re missing.
2 comments:
There can never be too much land between me and my mowing neighbors..our milk cow goes into the front yard to mow it tomorrow. Yup, it's the country!
That's great! What my area lacks in lawns and mowers / trimmers / edgers, it makes up for in big cowboy trucks and harley's. But lately, the sounds of quail, and constant movements of hummingbirds and roadrunners, overrules even the outlaw set!
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