They say, "Cut before May,
cut every day,"
but I cut once in April
and left it that way.
The grass has grown up
to well past my knees—
lettered with wildflowers,
grasses, and weeds.
Orange dandelions!
And daisies of pink,
Some bell-shaped! Some bowl-shaped!
Some shaped like a spring!
The footpath's gone missing;
the hose is grown over;
the bare patch is patched up
with patches of clover.
"Code Violation,"
the notices read,
but the clouds threaten rain—
I'll cut it next week.
