Yesterday, as I mowed my lawn, I found several mushrooms spruoting like little men from the cold earth. They’re are pictured here. Anyway, a few hours of yardwork, and those mushrooms, encouraged me to write this poem. I pray it’s worth your time.


I’ve let the wind
scatter the leaves,
amber and blush,

watched them panic,
flutter like frighten birds.
I found a feather

tucked between three
blades of grass sprouting
from wet earth,

moist, green, like cake,
laid it on a fence post
towering above the purple mums

clustered as tightly
as the mushrooms
gathered in the elm’s shade

clutched together
a society of gnomes
yearning for the sun.


4 thoughts on “Yardwork

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