New Grass The wild grass is gone and a layer of sand, a mini-desert encircles the house, except where the careful sidewalk marks the path where neighbors may stand and talk or walk their dogs or jog, a year from now, admiring the lawn. This evening or tomorrow morning a truck will pull up. Brown men will unload carpets and stretch them across the leveled sand as tejano trumpets through the open doors of the truck. If there is a wind after they leave, a can, empty of its soda, will roll from where the men took their breaks to a strip of splotched yard between the sidewalk and the street.
Michael Neal Morris’ most recent books are Based on Imaginary Events, Release and Haiku, Etc. He is a regular contributor to the blog Two Cents On and posts almost daily to This Blue Monk. He lives with his family just outside the Dallas area and teaches Composition and Creative Writing at Dallas College.