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Leaf Factories Or Just Rake the Leaves Without Whining By: Tom Wright

Leaf Factories or Just Rake The Leaves Without Whining By: Tom Wright 11/25/99 I see leaves, in assorted hues of red, yellow, and rust, reminding me of paint splotches, from the palate of some Grand Master, moving ever slightly with each wind gust. They blanket the ground as color on canvas, and in thought I try to see just how it would be, if God, like man, had tired from His labors and foregone speaking into existence the tree. I ponder, where would the creatures stay, both great and small, or where would songbirds build their sheltered nests' if no trees existed from which these leaves would fall. I think, where would I, find welcome shade to escape the midday heat, and of the holes I dig each spring, for the planting of other trees, and the potential joy that each might bring. I think of things we build from wood and of clean fresh air as photosynthesis takes place. Then with sheepish look, in haste, I rake, shred, and compost until there's left no trace.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Book: Shattered Sighs