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By golly, he did it.
Kicking back on his laurels (which took the form of an aluminum lawn chair), he calmly but triumphantly soaked in the luminescence of his masterpiece. For years he had labored over it, and for years his work was outshone by his peers and colleagues, especially by Steve down the street.
But not this year. This time he had it, and right at the peak of the season, too. His tactful planning began in late autumn and went into effect in early spring. He spent hours crafting, shaping, and nurturing the object of his pride. His very soul could be seen on its shimmering surface.
The sunlight played upon it like the frolicking waves of a newborn ocean. Emerald hues and teal highlights would occasionally subside to reveal a hint of violet in a glow that was similar to the aurora borealis. The photons released from its surface hummed with the warmth of a new wavelength yet unperceived by man. It were as if the electromagnetic spectrum had been turned sideways and expanded to infinity. The chloroplasts in each cell of every blade made perfect use of the sunlight. A supernatural aura seemed to hang over it, even at night. Blessed were the feet that tread upon its soft, warm, sanctified surface.
Yes, this year he had it.
He had the perfect lawn.
artid
2803
Old Image
7_3_perfect.jpg
issue
vol 7 - issue 03 (nov 2004)
section
pen_think
x

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