The last
Of the summer grass
Is mown.
The future is unknown.
The past
May be a guide.
But we decide
What seed is sown.
But does grass
In the mower’s grasp
Feel itself free …
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K Morris - Poet 
Nice one, Kevin. We keep thinking we’ve done the last mowing for this year, but it still keeps growing.
Thank you, Vivienne. I’m pleased you enjoyed my poem