I was finally able to mow the lawn after at least three weeks. In some parts of the front lawn, which receives the most sun, the grass was close to a foot tall. And even though the dew had burned off and it hasn't rained in a few days, the grass clippings were damp - water-fat, from a long, wet summer - and kept choking the lawnmower. The back lawn went much faster.
There's probably one more mowing left for this year. Maybe two. One year I did the final mowing in November.
I may be working on a poem about two women who drowned while trapped in the back of a van on Tuesday night when they were being transported from a mental evaluation to another facility in South Carolina. The two sheriff's deputies who were driving them - and apparently made the decision to drive around barriers and onto a flooded and worsening stretch of road - were able to extricate themselves. But the women - conscious and talking, but trapped - drowned in the back of that van,in the cold waters of the Little Pee Dee River. It's a story that fills me with such outrage that a poem may be the only way to produce anything coherent.
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