Leaving the Lilies
She set up sawhorses in the ditch
So the road crew wouldn’t mow her lilies
Which she thought of as hers because
They owed their lives to her intervention.
So boys with acne spreading across their faces
Like brushfire raised their trembling mower decks
As if in homage to the old widow they knew
Was watching them through windows.
Despite the roar passing over them,
The sawhorses didn’t raise their heads,
Absorbed as they were in their grazing.
They knew too to leave the lilies alone.