As it snows here this evening, I thought of this poem I wrote last summer on a very hot day.
What I Saw Today, August 3, 2012
There is a crack in the new concrete
they poured just a week ago
in the repaired section
of the neighbors’ sidewalk.
I think they have left the surface
a little rough
and I wonder how it will hold up
and if I will remember to look.
Beside a work truck
two men shout above the sputtering mutter
of a weed trimmer’s idle,
one man holding it loosely
It’s an amicable discussion
I hear the tone but not the words
Soon the trimmer will get angry
and want to cut some grass down to size
But for now it waits
for the men to finish talking
about the boss, or the weather, or the lottery.
The hot breeze blows the birch leaves
I push aside the low-hanging limb
that I refuse to let my husband cut
even though it blocks the walk
It does not inconvenience me
and I don’t care about visitors
Let them stay home if they mind.
I pick up a piece of trash
blown from down the street
white paper, folded several times
pulped and cleaned by the rain and sun
“Call us for a yard clean-up”
says the part I can read.
The rest is blurred and torn.
I think they should call me instead
I will do it for free.
I did check the sidewalk a few days ago, remembering this poem as I walked along the repaired section – it has not cracked any further. I am surprised, in fact, that I noticed any flaw last summer. It’s not very apparent, or maybe it’s just settled in?