Bad lawn.

We could use some rain about now The snow doesn’t really count Because roots need warmth Not icy tendrils to hunker under.

The sun is out and the tundra exposed Bare and cautionary to see Winter has done its thing To hide as best it could; But the surprise grows old And predictable.

We are symbiotes you and I Living together all these years Like that time you took out The old tree by the fence; And watched the dogs Run and play.

The bad lawn calls out for bag of mulch And a helping hand with these weeds that would grow in concrete if allowed; oh, and some topsoil will help The daffodils open and celebrate The coming of Spring.