through an open window
the scent of fresh-cut grass
comes in as if thrown --
a burst of fragrance to bring me back
to that wide, green field
and all the time he took to cut it.
watching him from the road
still working in the setting sun,
i didn't know the things he'd seen
or the people that he'd been.
and how we can't presume to know a life
just by watching from the road.
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