Rude Awakening

By David Henson

He stalked each spring,
hoe in one hand,
poison spray in the other.
He got in the face of any
less-conscientious neighbors
and kept abreast of the latest
weapons in the war
he waged.

One day a heart attack
mowed him down.
They found him sprawled
in lush Kentucky blue,
his cold, stiff fingers still
gripping his hoe.

He had a lovely graveside service
‘til someone lobbed a handful
of his mortal enemies
into his hole,
silky seeds parachuting to the side.

Now every spring his grave awakens
with the opening of a thousand
yellow eyes.

“I write for the enjoyment and to fulfill a need to be creative.” – the writer

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