it has all sorts of names;
but it’s all the same —
Like old Ronnie Reagan’s
Borax Mule Team boys,
tough and rugged,
it settles in for the long haul.
You have to de-root it.
Eradicate it completely.
But the roots run deep.
One can waste many an hour
well into an entire day,
trying to extricate
this dragon of the yerba-world —
one of Nature’s stoutest survivors.
Such was my case late one Summer’s day,
digging, pulling, yanking and jerking
pulling them out from their tenacious ties
to the underworld of the chthonic gods.
Working on my second pair of gloves,
I heard it.
At first, I thought it a semi-truck
drawing down upon our residential street.
semis are not allowed in our neighborhood.
Then, I thought of a helicopter –
medi-vac choppers often race across my backyard sky
unchecked, unchallenged, completely unstoppable.
The progression of rumble and grumble heightened,
rock and roll,
until the mums where dancing in their pots.
When it was over,
the birds instantly began chirping,
for I hadn’t even notice their mass silence.
That confirmed it — an earthquake!
my two dogs bolted out the dog door
running towards me,
begging me — not for biscuits —
but for my cessation
to the molestation
of the chthonic gods.
Copyright © 2011 Marvin Loyd Welborn. All Rights Reserved.