I raked a pile of leaves to my right,
turned around and they blew out of sight.
As I gathered with my rake,
I realized that I made a mistake.
The mighty wind was there to mock,
any effort I made to block,
the swirling fury on the ground
rising, falling, as it blew around.
Waiting patiently for the wind to stop,
another pile of leaves decided to drop.
What I picked up, blew away too,
what in the world, was I to do.
This certainly wasn't any fun,
at this rate I'd never get done.
Working quickly during a moment of rest,
to the street I raked, with new found zest.
The wind rose as I watched from my seat,
the pile of leaves blew down the street.