POETRY FRIDAY: Mowing by Robert Wrigley

Over at Wild Rose Reader, I have some poems about grass--an original acrostic, an original "things to do" list poem, and a poem by the great Valerie Worth. I've taken over the chore of mowing and trimming our lawn recently--so I've had grass on my mind. That's why I selected the following poem by Robert Wrigley to post today. If you read the entire poem, you'll see that it's about more than mowing a lawn.

Mowing
by Robert Wrigley

Sleepy and suburban at dusk,
I learn again the yard’s
geometry, edging around the garden
and the weedy knots of flowers, circling
trees and shrubs, giving
a wide berth to the berry patch,
heavy and sprawled out of its bounds.
Shoving such a machine
around a fairway of dandelions,
it is easy to feel absurd.
The average lawn, left alone
one hundred years, could become
a hardwood forest. An admirable project.
Still I carry on, following week on week
the same mowing pattern, cutting edges,
almost sprinting the last narrow swaths.
And tonight, as I mow over
the bushels of fallen peaches,
sending pits soaring over the neighbors’ fences,
seems hardly any different.
But on one crooked march I walk
across the thin hidden hole
to a yellowjacket hive. The blade pulls
them up from their deep sweet chamber
just as my bare legs go by.


You can read the rest of the poem here.

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Kelly Polark is doing the Poetry Friday Roundup this week.