Leaves
Leaves
Written: by Tom Wright
11/28/2014
Leaves now swirl afoot, as if disoriented,
Now aground,
Once brimming with chlorophyll but now
Just browned;
The ominous wind that whistles through
The trees,
A mere precursor to that soon arriving
Winter freeze;
They congregate in piles where they’re
Not wanted,
A yearly ritual and always, I’m seemingly
Undaunted;
I Rake, Blow, Bag and Mow to no avail;
Is this my lot?
I contemplate allowing them do their thing
Until they rot;
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2019
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