Mowing after the Invasion of the Moles

Wrestling a lawnmower across ridges Sculpted by stealthy burrowing rodents, I manhandle the reluctant machine, Conjuring in my mind bucking broncos, My bouncing mower a battling steed That resists this amateur cowboy’s lead, Charging forward, lunging over hillocks, Dodging first left, then right, pausing to throw Without warning, its feckless rider down On dusty soil strewn with fallen branches.

Moles burrowing underneath my yard made mowing the grass so much more difficult and inspired this attempt at poetry. May God give you comfort and perhaps a laugh at my expense (although empathy and commiseration are equally appreciated).