Yard Work

Dec 12 2017

There is always yard work

that needs to be done.

In a world of trouble

and fraught browbeaten lives

a few hours of keeping your head down

and your hands in moist sun-warmed soil

kneeling over the hydrangeas

or repelling an invasion of slugs

is all you could really ask for.

A simple chore, a certain end;

something you can see, touch, measure.

The virtue

of honest work,

the satisfaction

of muscle, sweat, dirt.

Of standing, hands on hips

and surveying your small sovereign domain,

all squared away

under control.

Yes, you are hopelessly bourgeois,

a pathetic example

of conventional suburban man

with your postage stamp yard

and shed of neatly stacked implements.

Depending on the season

shovelling, raking, pruning, planting

and always cutting the grass, it seems;

whatever needs doing,

no matter what's in the news

the politicians are up to

the doomsday clock tolls.

A modest home, metaphorical castle,

with the drawbridge up,

your loving companion

in a lofty tower,

vats

along the battlements

filled with burning oil.