Jumping In a Pile of Leaves

Leaves-piles are seen plenty in our place, During summer or winter or spring or autumn's race; Our games of any sort in fall are incomplete, Without hiding within or beside heap of leaves-suit; Jumping within leaves-piles is true fun, As though slipping through bed-sheets velvet-spun; Sometimes their dry-hard petioles poke, Who minds it, when exhilaration constantly does provoke? Occasionally from under a stray leaf a disturbed spider creeps, Or a snail, in surprise, from within its shell peeps; We continue, as though we're not worried at all, Who, for this sake, can afford to miss true fun of the fall? Competitions are parts of such pile-jumping, Who does faster and finer and without any bumping? Who lesser shatters the labyrinth around the heap? Who could longer within the warm pile sleep? Thus goes our jumping and leaping game till moms call, Each one, as though deprived of great treasure, does crawl; We impatiently wait for a new day to dawn soon, That we might resume our games within leaves-dune…! 08 September 2022 Fall Flavors Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh