#26: Meditative Mowing

Here’s something new for the poem of the day, with only four more days to go: an audio performance!  I’m reading this poem into garageband using my Blue Yeti microphone.  I think it turned out pretty well.  Let me know what you think!

Meditative Mowing

Pay day was two days ago, and now,
bills paid, we’re already broke.
Mowing the lawn, I breathe in and out,
but not too deeply;
it’s a gas-powered mower after all
and it’s noisy and it stinks
and it hurts my hands
but I mow and breathe in and out
and try not to think
about how broke we are.  A big lawn,
it takes me an hour and a half
of mowing back and forth
and back and forth, around this tree
and that tree, around that stump,
from this section of the yard to the next,
carefully crossing the gravel drive
so as not to blind myself or cut myself
with flying debris.  I breathe in and out
and try not to think about how
broke we are.
Instead, I focus on the engine’s rumble,
trying to make straight rows
at perfect angles,
paying attention to dog shit
I may have missed, buried deep
in the grass I’ve let go too long,
all the while concentrating on
my breathing in and out
but not too deeply and
trying not to think about,
this early in the month,
before the new month actually
begins, how broke we already are.

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