Looking out the window
At my lawn,
I decide that it’s not quite right.
Too many dandelions,
Crabgrass and clover,
And patches of brown scattered everywhere.
I don’t even walk barefoot
Through this grass,
But protect myself with sandals.
The soil is weak from past neglect.
And then there is that
Chemical treatment
That didn’t quite work.
I even tried tilling it over.
That helped
For a while –
Until the first frost.
So I think
Maybe I should move.
New house. New lawn.
Plant my own grass,
Just the way I like it.
I’d do my best to tend it well,
And I would watch it grow
Thick and green.
And I would run barefoot
Once again.
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