When the Grass is Mown

The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.

It grows and grows
A little each day

And it’s easy to ignore
Until you can’t 

Then it’s too late
To pretend like you didn’t.  

First the mice are happy
Hidden from predator eyes

Then come the rats and snakes
Nesting, resting

But it can’t go on forever
While the sickle is sharpened 

And it falls blade by blade
 Eternity between the rain

Until fence shows through 
And the path light finally reigns

And one by one 
What the blade does not find

The cat does,
And the rats find death