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.