Day after day, the old poet sat on his rock and mumbled to the grass.
The grass grew, and a man on a big riding mower would cut the grass down.
The riding mower ejected the cut grass out the right side, and the man made a point to drive by the poet and his rock so the mower sprayed him with grass as he passed.
The old man’s poetry was a lot more angry on lawnmowing days, but he refused to move from his rock.
One day, the riding mower ran over a glass bottle.
And the poetry ended.