Sins of Omission - May 2 2026

 

Sins of Omission

May 2 2026

The leaves over-wintered

beneath the snow,

like a thin insulating layer

blanketing

the sleeping soil.

Now freeze dried, and slowly decomposing

in the brisk spring air,

they form a rust-coloured mat

still damp

from the recent thaw.

Will they suffocate the grass

starve it of sun?

I gaze out despairingly

and contemplate my many sins

of sloth, neglect, and drift.

The shoddy work, 

chores deferred,

and people badly served

or thoughtlessly ignored.

Mostly sins of omission

but also selfishness. 

The leaves, of course, can be raked

and the the lawn will green-up

as it’s always done,

producing its annual crop of weeds

and patchy bare spots

my half-hearted efforts 

have failed to regenerate.

I shrink into myself,

imagining the lawn as a billboard

proclaiming my negligence

to each tut-tutting passerby. 

Some mistakes can be repaired

their consequences softened

or even mercifully forgotten

in the fullness of time.

But I fear the important things in life

are beyond recovery;

they resonate down the years

the way a stone in water

breaks its glassy calm,

concentric waves

losing height

but fanning out in all directions.

Give them time to dry, I say to myself,

too soon

to get out the rake.