Until I Drop

IMG_0937

Crow, insidious in his element. Copyright 2015, J. A. Hesch

The crows stalk the wild
near-subterranean somethings
in the far part of my yard.
Bugs and grubs are their
Beluga and Cristal.
Dressed as they are in flashy
funereal ebony, midday sun’s
proven too much even for
these surface-spelunking
scavengers.

They scrape their voices against
my rain-needy sandpaper soil,
lift off for the shade trees,
and become one with the shadows
until the sun tips over
those leafy tops and day begins
its crawl to crow-wing night.

From the window of this
air-conditioned room, I bury
beneath the sod of my suburban
manliness a green jealousy
of their ways, working my grass
from end to end, front to back,
and never losing a drop of sweat,
or even a minute, to watching me
while I’m out there sweating
until I drop.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s