Morning Walk

A lawnmower next door hums through early morning
Latinos come to clip and trim the doctor’s grass.
They move like bulky ghosts under a pastel dawn
fake spring pinks brushed lightly over a cream colored sky
they have no time for this autumn morning, intent on the job at hand,
each lawn a crumple of green bills pushed deep in large pockets,
the American Dream within reach.
They ignore me as I walk my dog, gringo lady too white too thin,
hard spirit of this land expecting much for the much it gives.
Brown hands begrudge imposed discipline all clocks & law & order
lush lands they left shadows in dark eyes.

About the Author:
Janet Butler relocated to the Bay Area in 2005 after many years in central Italy. She teaches ESL in San Francisco and lives in Alameda with Fulmi, a lovely Spaniel mix she rescued in Italy and brought back with her. Some current or forthcoming publications are The Blue Bear Review, The Chaffey Review, Miller's Pond, Town Creek Poetry, and Red Ochre Lit. Her most recent chapbook is "Searching for Eden" from Finishing Line Press.