A middle-age man is kneeling
On his front lawn,
Carefully leveraging out every weed.
Each invader must be delicately extracted
With roots intact.

Near the end of the day
When the light is too dim
He considers how much lawn is left,
Knowing by the time he reaches the end
He must start again.

His knees ache and his back is sore.
He falls asleep on the couch
With the television on
And in his dream
He sees an infinity of lawn,

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved