Good morning! Today I’m presenting a fresh poem, but it’s actually one I wrote yesterday. I revised a bit this morning. And it’s all about this:

That’s what my yard looked like day before yesterday. Gorgeous, right? Absolutely. I love flowers. I especially love wildflowers. But spots of it were well over ankle-deep. I do not like snakes (I mean, I’m okay with them in theory, but since one killed my dog, I haven’t been super fond of having them near my loved ones). I also don’t like rats and mice in the house and keeping your yard cut back is essential to discouraging pest infestations.

And so I cut my yard. As much as it pained me to cut all those beautiful flowers, I did it. Because I’m a grownup, damn it. Sometimes that sucks.

Massacre

By Michelle Garren-Flye

I mowed my lawn yesterday,

painful as it was to cut down buttercups

and crowpoison and violets.

I picked a few to make a bouquet,

but the rest I had to let go,

sacrificed to the mower’s blade.

Tell me please, what else could I do?

Rats love weeds and grass

and don’t care if flowers contribute

to the refuge they require.

In shadows, snakes slither through,

so the overgrowth must go!

And still I knew I would miss

the cheerful heads I decapitated

so I stole a moment to admire

Nature’s beauty I must erase.

A masterpiece of color and scent

nevertheless met its fate.