Yard Work

Written by: Katelyn Dobbs

On dead, dry, summer afternoons

I used to watch my dad work around the lawn

his dusty, brown work gloves carried the wheel barrow

or leaned the shedding ladder against the house.

The briny voice of the radio tells the score

while the sun plays in the trees.

I make my own games on the ground.

Later, Mom will call the dogs in

and Dad will lay the fertilizer over the yard.

tangy rays of sunlight will cut across the barbwire

and cars will pass the mailbox home from work,

so they can enjoy BBQ dinner.