This month’s challenge at Today’s Little Ditty is to write letters to ourselves that we don’t necessarily have to answer. I was going to skip the challenge, as I have not been having very productive conversations with myself! But I just read the poems posted for the challenge, and figured I could come up with something. And so I have–it’s more of a rough draft than I would usually share, but I am trying to get back to posting more often, so will start with this.
Not that many years ago, the land where we live was an oak savanna. When we moved into our house the towering oak trees still grew, but the savanna had been turned into a lawn. Not exactly a lush lawn, but lawn nonetheless. For many years my husband mowed front and back, then front and occasionally back, and has finally skipped the back altogether except for a path down to the lake. I’ve planted a few prairie plants and scattered some seeds, but mostly we’re letting nature take its course. Right now we’ve got goldenrod and asters blooming where the grass once grew. Our new “wilderness” inspired this (and I’ll bet you can guess the answers to the questions!)
If the lawn mower stays silent on Sunday mornings,
the green carpet untamed,
the grass inching ever taller,
will the frothy foam of spittlebugs
appear in June?
Will rabbits stand on hind legs
and reach for dandelion seeds?
Will goldenrod and asters
bloom among autumn grasses?
Will we miss the roaring engine,
the stubble of fresh-cut lawn,
the symbol of suburbia?
Looking for more poetry? Visit Jone for links to all of today’s Poetry Friday posts.