After Philip Larkin
The mower conked out. On close inspection, I found
That it had just run out of petrol. Having refilled
With a funnel, I pumped the choke three times
As per the instructions. It started first time
And I was back underway, circumnavigating
Tree trunks, dodging daffodils past their prime.
I didn’t even see a hedgehog, let alone
Kill one. But then I’m not so busy writing poems
That I let the grass grow two feet high.
I may not be a poet. But at least I can mow a lawn
Without slaughtering the wildlife.