Poem for April 6

April 6 Just a short note today, dear friends. I am tired, fighting a bit of a cold, and grandson Xander was here last night and half of today. He is a wonder but he’s five and I’m 63. Need I say more? Oh, yes, and he loves playing chase. So this afternoon there’s no rwal introduction to my poem. It’s Spring. Summer’s coming. The grass is growing . . . //WEEDS ON THE FOURTH OF JULY //I express my individuality //through weeds. //Dandelions and foxtails //show my contempt //for everything uniform //and societal. //My rebellion, right there on my lawn //for all to see. //It’s patriotic -- my //Declaration of Independence, //that all weeds are created equal //and entitled to the pursuit //of happiness. //My Magna Charta, //that no King ever shall //strip me of my brambles. //I’m not lazy, you see, //or gardenally challenged //as some might suspect. //I’m making a statement here. //I do not believe in lawns. //They corrupt the nature of things //and require too much //indentured servitude. //I’d rather eat thistles than grass.