The mesa was brown
In this barren, dry land.
My dad decided to take a stand.
Armed with shovel and rake in hand,
He shoveled and raked clay into yielding sand.
Upon a warm, barren, desolate land,
Kentucky, glue-grass seed was sown by hand.
Until the days were done, the soil was kept damp
against the hot, western sun.
Within days, tiny blades emerged
Pushing against the stubborn, brown earth.
Moving the soil that once had been dry.
Reaching, stretching, growing toward the blue of the sky.
In a desert land,
Ode to one man's stubborn stand,
A green oasis grows beside a desolate, brown land.
A lawn was born!