I walk my bike up
This steep hill
Look across the street
And stop still

His tiny left hand
Wraps daddy’s shoulder
His tiny body
Leans over

His little right hand
Just barely touches
The metal handle of a
Rumbling lawn mower

Dad’s left¬†hand grips
This heavy machine
His right gently holds
His two year old son

Backs tipped over
They both mow
The lawn together