This weekend I mowed the lawn and cut limbs.
I ripped and clipped, and danced with the shadows to avoid the sun.
I said, "yes," to the man who drove by looking for work.
That was the end of the bush Ms. Rosie ever so sweetly suggested that I should tame in the short years I knew her before she died.
That was the end of being blocked from the full force of the shining sun and the antics of the street.
Now I will see everyone attempting to snatch figs from my tree.
Now the birds will have to limit their roosting to the bushes.
J.S.
