Night Mowing

Setting out through dusk, 

(my destination 

the cute mid-century ranch,

new to Redfin)

My Labrador Molly and I

walk and look.

I imagine it’s mine

(as I do with 

all charming ones),

then turn toward my

vinyl-clad neighborhood,

the stadium lights

illuminating the night.

In the wide, quiet street,

a lawn mower starts, 

and I sing.

“Night mowing...

deserves a quiet night.”

Molly looks up,

(alert, since the squirrels

she usually stalks

have snuggled in 

for the night).

Lawn Mowing at Night

could be the title 

of a short story, 

about someone drunk. 

I wonder if the mower,

blindly zig-zagging 

across a lawn unseen 

is sober.

Close to home, I

bend toward chestnuts

in that same black night,

Shoving them in my pockets

as I hum.

-Tia 10-5-19