The lavender this summer
grew so high and thick
that within the purple, sprouting flesh
a tangled waltz of other grasses grew
so high and thick too.

Thank you
for the the assault of sweetness
when I do what my grandfather did
and watch the mountain shadows move
from my scything seat above the sod;

I’d like to think we float together
he and I
and that his hand rests on my back
while we look out over the rendered rows of silage
and the softened arc of water raising the tall
tall corn…