Species

"I can mow your lawn," he says. A teenage boy stands in the gutter outside my house, hands resting on a lawn mower. "Fifteen bucks." I pause for two seconds, wondering if this kid is an angel answering a prayer or a messenger saving me from an angry neighbor. Higher grass blades serve the lawn I reason. The lushness cushions a sunbathing bottom or a doggie's paw pads. The height keeps down the weeds I argue. Then I look down the lane and see the tidy front yards with their tended flower beds banking the walks. My wallet holds several twenty dollar bills. No need even to hit the ATM. "What are you gonna do with the money?" I ask. "Buy a bird."