it was a white hot day 
cut open at the belly 
spilling too much light 
and heat across his
rolling landscape 
land that he 
earned through whatever 
he did before retirement 

I could feel the penultimate 
moment in my bones 
with the hot edged lip 
of summer’s honeysuckle 
call to break wide open
across the ridges 
older than any god
thought possible
ran like I did
before I was me now

instead I sat on
my landlord’s tailgate
preparing a day’s work
that he’d pay me for
so I could give it right back

he’s going blind
he tells me
says he’s running out of time
which means we’re running
out of time

in the end he’s a stranger
who will have to let
all of it go
sees the end coming

and I’m not in that plan
though my blood and sweat
are soaked in that earth

there isn’t room for words 
that we need to say 
so he tells me to cut 
the grass at 3.5 inches