A free-verse poem about fallen leaves. |
Our yard is quite treeless, having just grass and flower beds. When our neighbors’ trees undress, the leaves shed get spread around, blown afar by the wind. A blanket, several inches deep, of fallen leaves soon smothers our yard in unseemly brown roughage until my wife rakes, bags, and trashes the leaf litter to restore the yard to its former pristine state. Her pride at her work soon gets dashed as before her eyes a spate of the leaves so despised slowly drizzle down, her work being undone while she watches. Alas, the leaves relentlessly float down one by one … until a stronger burst of wind brings leaves skating along the ground tumbling from yard to yard to finally come to rest upon our immaculate grass. This aggravating pattern of leaf deposition will repeat itself for weeks to come. Only after the fall of all leaves is complete and the neighbors’ trees stand bare in their nakedness replete will my wife then be able to keep the clean yard she so fervently seeks. Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |