Poem – Mowing Dead Grass After Church on Sunday

My friend Tina who runs the blog tour spot is doingan event for Keri Wyatt Kent’s book Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity. I have not read the book–though I enjoy Sabbath books because I’m particularly bad about resting.

See, I do things like post on my blog during my July 4th weekend.

Both Keri and Tina have nice websites. I’d highly recommend you click over and check them out. (Keri has a Children’s Ministry channel at Christianity Today that is worth your time as well.)

All that to explain the poem I wrote, on prompt from my creative friend Tina who continues to push the boundaries of social media marketing for Christian publishing.

Mowing Dead Grass After Church on Sunday

Stubborn life knows no rest.
Our desert lawn grows tall enough
to tickle my fat dog’s chest
in just one week. I don’t water
and still it grows, not green, not
lush, not Whitman’s fresh cut
hair of graves, but burrs and tentacle
grass like dead spiders, brittle
brown in the heat. No poet’s passed
here under my army surplus boot-
soled feet, but the dead demand
attention from suburban morticians
trimming the nails of corpse plots
with coughing, greasy Troybilts
hacking, at the highest setting,
their zombie lawns, flinging mulched
stickers into shins. Here’s the truth,
I’ll admit my sin. I love this Sabbath
work, my mower’s loud drone
swallows the noisy world whole.

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Tagged as: christianity, Keri Wyatt Kent, lawn, poem, Religion and Spirituality, sabbath, zombies