Poem #29: Feeling the Lawnmoer

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On the first of May I mowed my grass
(and dandilions, too)
but much vibration came upon
the handle I clung to.

I then unplugged ('cuz it's electric)
to check it underneath;
I found it clogged with wet mown grass
from my suburban heath.

I took a tool and scraped it out
as well as dry bits, too;
and it began to mow again
as when mowers start out new.

The lesson here, dear reader, is this:
Sense the mower over time.
And please forgive the poet here
who struggles with May's rhyme.
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