Wednesday, March 22, 2006

In Memoriam B.P.P.

Dead Bradford Pear Petals,
like fish scales,
cover my yard.
They smell!
They smell every year
when their beauty passes to rot.
Time to fire up the lawnmower,
shred their carcasses
into fertilizer appetizers;
green Bermuda
will be mowed weekly in their honor.

7 comments:

Masago said...

An interesting chaser for "Sound Intelligence"...a different outlook on a common experience!

its_baxter said...

its great how you turn the everyday chores into interesting and amusing descriptions :-p

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

Would you like to come mow my yard?? I've been looking for a young man to do that - :)
Our problem is pine needles, though.

Borut said...

Beautifully poetic perspiration...

polona said...

i love this one!

Pat Paulk said...

Thanks Vaughn!

Ruthanne, it's all I have.

Andrew you let me off the hook when you said "young" man. What's the pay?

Borut, poetic perspiration, I like that! Thanks!

Polona, thank you for all your comments!

Janet said...

I didn't know they smelled. But they sure look nice, for a while, on the tree! Hey, we don't have the blossoms here yet.

Ditto with what others said about your ability to turn the everyday into enjoyable poetry!