The man who isn’t Beethoven
chords his strimmer
and jams it twice
on my too-long grass
plays capriccio
with chain-saw and ladders
on holly, willow and lilac
grins every time
he hands over a bill
because grunting might put
customers off
works accelerando
and never seems to stop
Except for him
everyone hears
his trailer’s fortissimo
behind his truck