Catastrophic bees in tees
Seek the edges of green lawn,
While night workers, oblivious,
Try sleeping behind drapes
Of white noise.
Teams of green clad
Buzzing monsters attack,
Tool driven, belt drives engaged,
Soon replacing one buzz
For an informal hum.
They are a constant.
A suburban flock
And Grasshoppers, snails,
Slipping competition for wages.
Grooming nature, using comb,
Scissors that are automatically
and Mysteriously changing in form
It rained, grew, and in growing
Fertilized the minds of the Suburbian.
Nonsense you might cry,
But you'll never be heard.
Seen and unseen as they mow,
Edge, and disappear
Rush hour will never see their like.
The grass wars have begun.
Who is the cheapest?
The fastest? The meanest?
The honest? The overpriced?
All on paper, awaiting signatures
Of concession. Sign here, please.