Once there was a war declared between the landscapers and the football players.

the football players chose the day and place and they prepared.

              they knew how to launch assaults and plot sneak attacks.

              they had honed their aggression through years of team sports

                            into a masterwork of hustle and hate, and built up their bodies

                                          with groaning and strain under bent bars on benches

                                                        until they attained the weight of all things frightening and needy.

the landscapers were clearly outmatched…

but alas, on the day of the bout, before the assault could even get started,

              it came to a halt! it was done! it ended.

the football players departed and by default the landscapers won;

              no war could go forward in that torrent of weeds, for

                            someone

                                          had left the playing field untended.