Copyright 2018 by Chris Benedict
He can feel the grass grow Under his feet Tall, thick, viridian. And it makes him itch To mow. That verdant stretch, but He cannot, for the mower Is broken. He must order a part. And the day is sunny, and You can almost hear That bladed forest Growing. But the mower Is broken. He has ordered the part. And you Can almost bet That the day the part arrives And he fixes the mower Will be rainy. And the grass growing under his feet Will be soggy, untameable wilderness, Too thick for easy cutting. With the sunshine a distant memory Of the perfect Spring day To mow.