On The Cutting Edge

No, not the cutting edge of technology or any major level of sophisticated anything. Rather the cutting edge of the lawn mower carving a path through what once was a fairly solid yard of grass but has become a greenish blend of all plant things available under the sun.

Why write about mowing the lawn? That is a good question with many answers that depend on how I feel at the moment you choose to ask.

The responses could fall in a range somewhere between:
"It's what I did yesterday.." to "insights from the deepest reaches of my mind.." and other lofty, philosophically convoluted and heady introspective thoughts. (OK, that was too many big ideas in a row for me. Just keep it simple Jim!)

As I worked through the task I could tell the oxygen was flowing freely to my brain because:

1. I was not getting dizzy as I sucked in air through the surgical mask I need to wear to avoid allergic reactions.
and
2. My mind was running away with itself, thinking about the line in the yard I was trying to keep straight, the pretty Azaleas that are blooming despite lack of support and nourishment, to the birds out by the pond and trying to remember where in the bible Jesus questions his purpose in life.
and
3. A poem popped out at me.

Maybe I was getting delirious from lack of oxygen after all.

The prettiest blossom

The one surviving bush

A Lawn Well Mowed

Why is it when I mow away from the house my line looks fair

but when I turn around I see no control there?

Is it only an illusion that my mind’s eye plays?

Can the earth contort in so short a space?

Does the mower drift from left to right

or my brain lose charge and trick my sight?

Maybe an omen, as the Ides of March come soon

and mark the the approach Lent’s full moon.

Whatever the cause I interject,

I’ll set my wheels and self-correct.

Mallard couple and Cormorant sharing some space