In the year of mole mounds in my
patch of arthritic dirt, effete grass
and assorted twigs leftover from
what storm forecasters said would
render us useless in our aging
neighborhood, which, when it hit,
upset only the rueful forecasters
by its timidity, yet it made a point:
the regal shadows of the pin oak
on my property, on the north side
of my small yard in front, bullied
all efforts of my neighbor to grow
anything––grass, flowers, bushes––
in the yard in front of his house,
so I had this tall, majestic pin oak
removed, though my act of insolence
was officially condemned by a select
committee of our HOA vested with
the authority to deny/permit the sad
lot of us to change anything on site.
Ronald Moran has published poems in a number of journals, including Tar River Poetry, The Lake, and The South Carolina Review. His last six books of poetry were published by Clemson University Press. He lives in Simpsonville, SC.
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