The All Knowing Lawn
Mowing the all knowing lawn, evicting the scuttling politicians and bet-weary bankers, huddled neath the spyder networks of the Lawn and Order Society . The sun, out to prove it was no illusion, rounded up sun-worshipers cavorting half-naked
before it's very eyes. I trimmed the bowler-hatted hedge and chatted to it meaningfully with its deep roots in the earth and its buddies reaching out to the electric sun. Unplugging the electron-friendly mower, the rain clouds gathered on the horizon like birds about to raid the grass for insects. I packed away the machine and listened to the twittering of social media on the washing line of the world.
Text and photo by Trev Teasdel