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
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