After a warm summer rain,
I smell the gentle breeze,
filled with fresh-cut grass
mixed with wild sweet onion.
I close my eyes and picture Daddy,
in all his tattoos, mowing the lawn.
Sweat pours down his glistening face
as he hurriedly wipes his brow.
I hear the deafening roar of the mower
and see Mama on the porch, watching him.
She yells to him that supper’s ready –
his favorite, fried chicken and baked beans.
Reality jolts me out of my memories
into a world with very little green;
yet the scent of fresh-cut grass and wild sweet onions
sends my mind back to simpler times.
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