Today, I …
Sharpened the mower blades and
changed the oil; it was a return
to the summer rhythm — but
not the summer rhythm of late August
when I yearn for September’s cool days
to slow the growth of grass and let
me leave the mower untouched.
This was the new rhythm of early spring,
when I hunger for the grass to grow,
for the trees to bloom,
for the birds to sing.