I fired up the mower <br />although it was about to rain-- <br />a chill late September afternoon, <br />wild flowers re-seeding themselves <br />in the blue smoke of the gas-oil mix. <br /> <br />To be attached to things is illusion, <br />yet I'm attached to things. <br />Cold, clouds, wind, color--the sky <br />is what the brush-cutter wants to cut, <br />but again the sky is spared. <br /> <br />One of two things can happen: <br />either the noisy machine dissolves in the dusk <br />and the dusk takes refuge in the steady rain, <br />or the meadow wakes shorn of its flowers. <br />Believing is different than understanding.<br /><br />Chase Twichell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stirred-up-by-rain/
