Labor Day

Standard

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Spring green grass
brushing wetly against my ankles
I push the lawnmower through the yard
for the first time this season
trim back the stray tuffs of grass and weeds
from around the borders of red rock
surrounding our dozen gardens
pull dry, dead branches from the shrubs
dig up the sprouts of dandelions
yank out handfuls of new growth
of the purple flowered plant
on which the cicadas prefer to feed
untwist and dislodge wild strawberry vines
from the soil between the daffodils

The sky is so bright and lovely
and the same shade of soft blue
as your eyes

This morning
before I ventured to my waiting work
assisting the yard transition from winter to spring
you and your now ridiculously long legs
flopped onto the bed
with me and your father
and I told you the story again
about how on this day
fourteen years ago
I truly labored
transforming a slumbering potential
into a living thing of beauty

April 13, 2013
Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo #13

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