Megan (jehoshabeath) wrote,

  • Mood:

Silly lawn mowing poem

The Race

Grey sky overhang
Begin the race - race to mow the lawn!
Don the green stained shoes,
Take in hand the tools,
Line the start
And away we go!

A sudden sky taunt
Tapping the shoulder with rain
Runners call upon their God
Hold off the torrent!
Only let us complete the race!

Runner, quicken the lap!
Engine, lap the fuel!
We have far to go this day
Before the rain comes
Before the flood

Eye the sky
With a look, scare it still
Stratus response
Speckles the coat with its blood
There will be no retreat
Here it comes!

Shoes are tossed on a pile,
lungs eager to breathe
The race is won and the green quiet.
Just in time.
Tags: creation, poetry

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