My father
mowed the grass about his house
‘til he was nearly eighty-nine.
I have my doubts that I’ll surpass him
but I’ll try.

If that should happen
the year will be 2016.
Maybe I will pull the mower’s starter cord
and walk around the lawn
that doesn’t care a thing
about my prowess or my age
and then my heart will fail
and my body decorate the grass
as 911 is called.

T’will be a wondrous way
to end what long ago  began.

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