Finally Grateful for Yard Work
A poem New Yorker you would never understand
One Hundred Days of Gratitude. Forty-six.
South Texas summer South Texas sweat South Texas god how am I not done yet?
salt vs eyes sun vs skin man vs his own machine (again)
the entirety of plant evolution vs trying to keep the grass green and the yard raked and edges clean.
The audacity of man. Obscene.
The grass must overgrow and leaves have no choice but to fall
In the face of it all a perfectionist plan and a sense of accomplishment waiting to be seized
Sisyphus pushing the lawnmower happy it has wheels at least
Can’t help but feel proud of the meaningless mark he’s made
Good Work being Done Well
don’t tell but it’s almost like all dads since the dawn of time were right.
Now get me a beer and tell me goodnight.





