In Which A Reel Mower Inspires Other Ruminations

The cult of human power has in thrall

Your humble sonneteer, as you well know

Who read this blog. So nobody should call

Suprise the news that she doth choose to mow

The grass and weeds that fill and choke her yard

With something she must push herself. She feels

Most virtuous; no fossil fuels, just hard

And sweaty work from her own body, wheels

And whirring blades accomplish what she must

To keep her neighbors friendly. Thus the sun,

Provides her all the power needed, just

As it could do for most of us if one

Of these plans could be worked up, put in place.

To hell with oil; our future's up in space!

In Which A Very Ordinary Day Is Had

No words escaped my lips today; once more

Not even Molly, my dog, heard my voice.

No glamor or excitement, just one chore

That came after another, by my choice.

Not ev'ry day should be a quiet one

But when one comes, please help me not to scoff.

There's pleasure to be had, and even fun

In doing nothing on my last day off

Except for laundry, dishes, reading and

Attempting not to spend it all logged on

To feeds and other sites (though this, my grand

Scheme to unplug was not -- this is forgone

As those conclusions go -- successful). Though

I've maybe wasted time, 'tis good so, no?

On Coming Home After A Minibreak Vacation

'Twas just two days and change and yet it seems
As though I have been gone for weeks instead.
The grass unmowed out front now also screams
For watering, as do the hedge and bed
Of irises and lilies. Welcome back,
Says my front yard as I arrive, so tired
From driving in the blazing sun in black
(Car and attire). See all that has transpired?
There's dust to dust and vacuuming to do.
Out back there's weeds to pull and trim as well.
And by the way when all of that is through
A podcast still needs edited. Oh, hell:
You're worthless as you slump into that chair.
Fine, take a nap, but then to work, I swear!