Not Very Long Ago

a man took a cool-looking

tractor and mowed the field of

wildly free weeds (or AKA: August Fire

Hazard) behind our little house in Hanoverton,

Ohio; also chopping up or squashing many ground

hogs, chipmunks or whatever other living creatures

that couldn’t get away, since they had made nice

comfy homes there through almost two years

of neglect, and I know this because a distinct

odor of extinction thickly wafts our way

from time to time when the wind

provides an obliging path.