May 21, 2013, I mowed my green valley acreage for the first time in this new season. I so enjoyed it. I have missed it. For the first time ever, I had my green acres trimmed by other people. Twice! Due to circumstance. Now I'm back with my friend John Deere, doing one of my favorite things. This morning's work seemed NOT like work. It cleared my mind and made me think of something I wrote years ago in my journals, and here it is:
My tractor hums across the morning grass,
and I sit perched upon the seat
that's still too cool for comfort.
The shaggy tufts of dew-drenched grass get sculpted
smooth as astro-turf.
The chilly morning melts to noon, and birdsong turns
to traffic sound; and there's no shade to hide in,
nor breeze of early day to keep the flush from off my face.
I feel the freckles pop.
The midday sun stirs up a brew of grass perfume
and drought-bred dust, and hot sun stings my arms.
I sing and cannot hear myself; perhaps the neighbors can,
but I don't care. This is my realm; I am its queen.
I trim around the roses and the willow tree;
across the lawn and back again.
Yo, Queen! Traverse your kingdom!
Keep it slow and measured,
never mind the time;
it's your domain.
Smell the grass, wave at the neighbors,
mow across your world and back again.
The Queen of Calm.
---Rose Moore, 6-30-1992
