Sodden Lawn

Where the push mower

Tries to hide in arbor vitae

From rain and toddlers.

Loosed on this quiet morning,

But I am old like brittle wood,

A reed whose flute holes

Utter high pitched falsettos

Lacking strength & authority.

Life goes on without me–

For this I am relieved–

Still,

I can smile at youth

And find my airy place

Like a bird unnoticed

Crying from the cheap seats.

Bird Crying from the Cheap Seats!


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