Mow time
John Clare Stokes
The hand of my old friend Bob
The high wheel mower wouldn’t start
The grass just grew taller
It always will
I’m to the point of the end of push mowing
My one acre becoming too arduous
Suppose I need that electric rider after all
And my grass just grows tall.
The post wars again
You think you had a winner
But as usual
It’s not
I do not know what it takes
But it matters not
It’s time to mow
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