Filling up the tank

The weeds are growing high

Obscuring simple objects

from the naked eye.

Vaguest sound of planes

Almost inaudible

Headed towards a distant place

Violence is plausible.

I forgot to clear the yard

Of stubborn sticks and stones

Thrown around like bullets

Splintering weak bones.

Ice cold glass of water

Rewards of being done

Uneasily horrific

Although the battle's won.