Endless Lawn XIV

Mmm… gazpacho…

This one and the previous poem (XIII) are both from the end of mowing season last year (fall 2021). I hope you enjoy these fall mowing poems this spring, and that the paradox serves to enhance your appreciation for this wonderful time of year.

Season’s End 2021

The season of cold lager

and vine-ripe fruit

is ending.

If you’re serious

about that gazpacho,

it’s now or -

Damn!

A pebble left its

terrestrial bed and

smacked my upper lip.

It sank in

to the tender flesh

like a zealous lover’s teeth.

Now I am left thinking

of new lovers

and cold lager.

T. Evans, September 2021