Sometimes, Arnold mows his lawn at a high cut, say

in autumn before the first frost or summer when

rainless weeks desiccate the fear of censure.

Some hot mornings, when cicadas sing

their augury of a stifling afternoon,

Kate eats ice cream and lets herself hate dogs.

Weekends, from controlled suburban banks of blue

lakefront, Donna's teenager launches his raft

to escape the bookless kids, the team players.

Who can pledge allegiance every day?

Who doesn't envy animals that forage to live

in the untrained woods, without a helmet?