If You Give a Poet a Lawnmower

I love taking thoughts and giving them order and flow. Words that once bounced around in my head find their place on a page. Now organized and deliberate, they make sense of my feelings in a way that is beautiful.

Rhyme and reason. I love writing poetry.

You would think that I would be able to bring some of that to the lawn as I mow.

Not so.

As I ride aimlessly through the yard there is not an ounce of rhyme to be found. No reason. No order. No flow.

I usually sit back when my writing is done and enjoy the satisfaction of my work. It is a gift God has given me and I can't express the joy that I feel when it is complete. It's a wonderful feeling.

Today, I surveyed the land when my work on the mower was done. All I could think was "what was I thinking?" The closest thing to rhyme or reason was the circle I was doing in the middle of the backyard. Of course as I got half-way done with the circle, I got a vision of what I was going to look like once I got to the middle of the yard. I would have been driving in the smallest possible circle unable to cut the last square yard of grass. Kind of like the car that keeps driving around the gas pump but never gets on the right side. So, I stopped driving in circles and made lines straight across (straight being a relative term of course).

In the end, though, the grass is shorter and my husband does not have to do it after a long day at work. And that's all that matters.

I hope.