Lawn people

Today I sit in Starbucks before heading over to the office.  I am still learning how to live on other people*s schedules.  There is a steady stream of all ages here:  business people, train people, mothers with a baby or two.  I have always adored watching people.  Tomorrow I will be home edging things about so they will not be mowed or cleared in the name of grass.  Today I watch the people, edge each one about in his particularity, her particularity.  There*s more than one way to celebrate spring.

The green bud is still there in front on the end,

Small but present.

Jeff reminds me of the lawn people,

They love to clear everything away

In the name of grass.

Tomorrow I will find

The beginnings of columbine,

The nubbins of false indigo,

The peony sprouts behind the garage.

The rhubarb has already established

It can take care of itself and then some.

They are all

Creatures from another planet.

Plant people.

They inhabited the earth

Under the snow

In caves of their own making.

Now it may be safe to come out,

Except for the lawn people,

The ones who know grass

Takes priority.

Tomorrow I will edge things,

Encourage the columbine,

Watch the near dead clematis

For signs of life,

Pay attention to the peonies,

Say hello to the false indigo.

I will edge them all about with sticks and string,

Watch them grow,

Breathe on them,

Whisper warmth.

I will say

I am on your side,

I will save you

From the lawn people.

The grass is fine

In its place.