Our proliferating grass grows far too loud
Uproars provoke the worst disorders
We must find silent robot cutters
Happy to lop off every long blade
For lasting peace we shear to the roots
Errant tufts will stumble and fall
We tall trees may soon loom higher
Commanding the heights and purifying the sky
Perhaps then we can dissolve this blaring green mess
Replace it with long-lived forest-green plastics
Bloody work but far more secure
Every leaf perfect and perfectly in place
Real rulers know
All flesh is grass
