Monday Morning Coffee with Kloefkorn

Mowing the Lawn for the Last Timekloefkornphoto

I do it shortly after sunrise,

after the first hard freeze,

each swath a shredding

of leaf and of blade and of frost,

each swath so green, so perfect

I pause time and again to look

down the row to inhale as well as

to see it, to take it all in.

And the sound of the mower: a red

Piper Cub against a blue sky,

circling. Which is why I do not hear my wife

at first when she calls me.

We sit on elm stumps drinking black coffee

from thick white porcelain cups

left from the days of her dead father’s

café. I remember the waitress

whose face, it was said, could sour

milk, how the regular customers

loved her. We hold the cups

with both hands, leaning our faces

into them. The morning

for a few moments with us

stands still. We are very happy.

– William Kloefkorn (1932-2011), Nebraska State Poet (1982-present)

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