We Are Needed Here

We Are Needed Here

Here is how it works:
cut the grass in front of your house
every week and a half.

Skim the top layer of grass,
guiding the motorized blades
across the still-growing surface.

As with any ritual performed
to routine, our body starts to beg
for it. Soon enough, we drape

our actions with purpose.
To speak of housework, of chores,
we use the language of necessity.

We must cut the grass, we have to.
We are needed here. The land requires
our touch; our hands ache for the blade.