Reaping Blades Of Sunny Grass

I was outside
Mowing the grass
When I thought,

People have got to go through
So much
Just to be so simple.

Each grown blade
Not a clue what’s coming;

I know what’s coming,
Yet haven’t a clue about it,
Except to say,

People take care
And that
Takes a life
Meant for giving.

Like a whirling blade,
Like a gunshot,
Like failure,
Like a crawl,
Like splendor,
Like life,

Comes mysteriously calling
Something I think like what I saw as myself
Behind the lawnmower that day.


Today Is My Birthday

I saw it laying still
Across the street;
That was yesterday;
Still there today.

A shovel in one hand,
Black trashbag in the other,
I quickly cross the street.

Scooped it up, one hand holding the shovel
And trying to hold that bag open with the other
But the breeze is too strong–
Blows the trashbag closed,
Blows the birthday thoughts
Right out of my brain.

I look down, see its empty eye socket, and think again:
I live a dream
And that cat is dead,
For real.

There’s life,
Then there’s our lives.

But there’s only life.