MAN VERSUS MACHINE

MAN VERSUS MACHINE

Roger A. Davis

I could write this poem about my mower horror
About the time my big toe was split by a rider, you did sit
Or being jousted by a hedge branch to the ground
When the clutch belt slipped on the first round

But this prose is about my Dad's duel
And when it came to machinery
He was nobody's fool

A grain elevator worker when we were very young
He worked up the ladder to be the top rung
He was also a TV repairman during this span
Plus his father's, when he could, ranch and farmhand

My digress is done about Dad's careers
On with the tale of his mower throes and fears
Dad, forgive my memory, it has been many years

It was one Saturday getting close to noontime
Mom had banned us from the house, no more cartoon crime
Dad was mowing our large back yard
He had asked us to pick up items of discard

We were too busy with childhood play
Until we heard mom say
"Lunch is ready, go and get your Father"

One or two of us went toward the mower's sound
Found Dad sprawled out the ground
He was under the clothesline pole, prone
Guess we thought he was napping, we left him alone

We went inside to eat chicken and corn-on-the-cob
We didn’t mention Dad was asleep on the job
Mom must have figured he wanted to finish the task
Well, I don' think she even asked

Later, when we were near our last bite
Dad entered kitchen, he was quite a sight
Grass clippings were dripping
And he was walking as if he had been tipping

To this day, he says, we left him for dead
Because eating was more important than him, instead
“Quit whining, it was one Saturday of your life, early to bed"

Well, I guess I was wrong about this muse, you see
Dad said he stopped and was playful roping me
His feet slipped out and he was knocked out cold
Yet the rest of story is right, he said, that I've retold