Yellow Tractor Lawn Sprinkler

Yellow tractor roams the yard
eluding any pattern, unpredictable as
life, some seasons seeing more, some less, but always
lying still at night. It's like my life -- it circles
over countless years, forgotten of its
worth until the grass reverts to brown.

This tractor circles madly, cleaning,
rinsing, feeding tiny blades of grass --
a life that leans toward distortion in a
caricature of scale -- the sidewalk seen as interstate,
the yard as forty acres, molehill mountains --
only people on the porch can see
reality. They laugh at me, the victim of a joke!

Look, though! Look now! My mighty yard! My
arms reach far! I make this land a land of beauty,
whether six feet wide or sixty, I don't care, for it was
never done with any grasp of size...

Some yards are bigger, some are smaller, but in
practice it's irrelevant. This tractor
reaches borders and explores the
inner fringes just meandering along,
not knowing left from right, or next -- the hose of
knowledge feeding up the rear as
little more than hindsight in this yard of
exploration as this little yellow tractor
roams a path across the planet much as I might live my life.