they've left the grass uncut 

in the heat of the afternoon 

the fields give off the sweeter smell 

of flowers finished blooming 

and beginning to die 

rusty plants pour all their might 

into seeding for the future 

withering stems and roots 

hunched high in the cracked dry earth

using every means possible 

wind 

dogs running through the field 

our pantlegs 

to fling the seeds out into the air 

there to lie in the scorch of sun 

and the cool of night 

until the rains come again 

help me to remember 

when the withering comes 

that there will be a gust of wind 

or something 

that will carry the seed somewhere 

and that the rains will water it 

and it will grow 

they've left the grass uncut