Mowing, a Tanka Poem

I hate to mow grass.
It’s hot and bugs are biting.
I hate mowing grass.
Have I made my point clearly?
Mowing is not my favorite chore.

©2021 Tracy Swartz

And, I’d like to present today’s haute couture mowing fashion: This is a must-have when the temperatures are 90 degrees & above with equator-like humidity.

Long sleeve denim shirt. Too-large blue jeans (the sort that you have to continuously hitch up while mowing. This look does not require a flash of the neon blue grannie undies.) Dirty blue baseball cap. Matching light blue surgical mask (because your allergies are acting up & this is the first year in forever they have made their presence known). Pulling the look together, one must add stolen socks from the Hub’s sock drawer (the sporty white no-show type). Old smelly discolored sneakers with nary a tread left so you can slip & slide on the grass clippings.

In addition to this ensemble being THE fashion statement of mowers, it will protect you from the blood-sucking mosquito cloud of doom. (because the Black Swamp still haunts these parts & she likes us to remember that).

The claim above has not been evaluated by any reputable fashion house nor anyone with a lick of common fashion sense.

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