Naps for Laps

In the mid-morning hours after dawn

I would hear a rumbling on the lawn

Out the window I saw two types of green

One of grass, the other machine

Over one end and shot out the other

Green atop of green, the green sea itself does smother

Turning the corner, by the window does he pass

Dad's mowing the lawn, he's cutting the grass

I would run to him and he would come to a stop

Turning off the blades, a gear he would drop

As a child, I would climb up on his seat

He would hold me tight as we mowed by the street

The mower's engine was loud, with a deep droning pitch

I held on tightly as we mowed the deep ditch

The mower crawled at a humbling decent pace

Going over half-cut, half-uncut, following the blade's trace

Moving over the grass in tightening smaller squares

Bunny rabbits, moles and voles would burrow deep and hide in their lairs

I remember at times I having to wipe grass blades away from my eyes

I would run inside quickly to wash them out and ease my cries

Other times when I would sit down, I would grab the steering wheel

Imitate braking, by having my foot atop of Dad's, he stopped with his heel

There were times as a little kid that I would doze off while riding laps

Dreams of the engine rumbling beneath me, I would take naps for laps

"It's a grass eat grass world" I told when I was older, grass eats itself

When it came to mowing and fixing the mower, Dad taught me how to do that by myself