Raking Leaves

The trees know very well And so do the limbs. Nature tells the limbs To release the leaves because Their provisions of shadows And shades have now ended. The wind picks up and scatters The leaves as they quietly fall. Fields of grains and nuts abound; Opened cotton buds astound; Boll Weevils are not around. Fall is the harvest season when Painted leaves begin to descend. High-tech landscaping all around, But not for the raking of leaves. For 16 years and more, This exercise of hard labor prevailed. Most chores are less adored, But raking leaves were never adored. Once upon a time, there were four trees; Then there were two; And then there was one. I gladly say, now there is none. The trees and leaves, I miss; honest I do; I miss their quiet descent from smog-filled skies; I miss the protection from solar rays provided to me. I miss their treasured colors, their artistry; But I do not for one New York second, miss Racking the leaves of mulberry trees. 101722PSCtest, Painting prompted Poetry Contest Lisa YY. Chosen picture:#2. 2P