The Fruits of My Labors

I hate mowing the lawn,
hate the way it sends chinch bugs
flying to the stars after the rain.

In my dreams, however, I have lots of land,
and delight in sculpting neat parallel rows
with my tractor- over and over, on and on,

aerating the start of warrens and burrows 
for rabbits and woodchucks to finish their 
tunnels, for deer to graze my flowers, weeds. 

In the morning the milkweed blossoms,
bringing supping butterflies. At night,
the fireflies rise painting the darkness.

When the grass grows high and it’s time 
to mow again, I will close my eyes, 
and feel the biting bugs and buzzing flies 

mating dreamscapes in the coming dusk.

Posted

July 9, 2024

JONATHAN MOYA

Tags:

Bugs Butterflies chinch-bugs Fireflies Flies mowing, day, harmony, imagination, man versus nature, night, Poem, poetry, reality, the fruits of my labors

Comments

4 responses to “The Fruits of My Labors”

Jane Pryce

July 9, 2024

It is why I have no grass. I hated mowing it!

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JONATHAN MOYA

July 9, 2024

I have a small patch in front that I pay my neighbor twenty bucks to mow when he does his. The rest on the side and the backyard which are small and thin is artificial turf. Don’t have to mow it, but I do have to spray the weeds that come through and rake them out afterwards.

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clcouch123

July 10, 2024

This is a fine and refined fantasy (rhapsody?). Especially relevant in a lawn-obsessed society. I live in an apartment and so have no lawn to cut, though when I was younger I had lawns to manage. (Don’t mind that part of time being done.)

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JONATHAN MOYA

July 10, 2024

Appreciate the comment.

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