33/365, 14/30 The Inevitable

No matter how long it has grown,

no matter how warm it may seem,

March is never an appropriate month

for mowing New Hampshire grass.

Even worse, the first week of April,

inevitably bringing with it one last blizzard

when flannels have just been packed away

and the first fool-hearty daffodils have shown their colors.

Not until spring is a near certainty, 

the final flailing of frost abated,

will the time come for transformation

to manicure the untamed scruff of lawn's revival

to relish the decapitation 

of those first precocious dandelions

to remember what momentary accomplishment feels like

to know that it will keep growing.

A week from now, 

it will be long again

like it was this morning, 

as though this day never happened.