Eight-line Poems

The Task

The Task

Two friends upon the bench, survey the scene,
an autumn field strewn with the leaves of summer,
bronze to titian now, forgotten their foliage green.
One man complains to the other, “Oh, that’s a bummer.
Just two rakes to sweep all this? It can’t be done.
You need a ride-on or, at the very least, a blower.”
The other shrugs his orange-clad shoulders,
“It’s all I have - and I said it wouldn’t be much fun.”


Line count: 8
Rhymed ababcddc
For Express It In Eight, 11.15.22
Prompt: As per illustration.