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 Outnumbering locusts 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.
Ann WJ White 