The tines of the rake
comb through a dispersing tumble.
Ocher clumps form random hillocks,
most slip through the iron teeth
dancing drunkenly away.
I was called into the rushing air.
Physical work with the dead and dying
is a ‘calling’ isn’t it?
The newly deceased keep falling.
Maple leaf bones crackle underfoot.
I scoop their remains,
brush an autumnal cerecloth,
shake the dead into swirls of afterlife.
Today, I fancy I am a caretaker
for the changing seasons,
yet an autumnal age divests me.
the years turn
and I am more exposed.
Next year I will buy a leaf blower,
my wife may need it
when I fall.
mom rakes piles of leaves
kids with bikes scatter them
causing mom to yell
I hear my sister calling me for dinner
As I'm raking up the clippings from the grass.
I turn my head
And am stuck by the gently setting sun
That glows red through the soft grey clouds.
A light breeze plays with my hair
As this warm summer evening crawls to a close.
I inhale.
"Coming!"
Raking Leaves
The leaves keep coming down
I see them tumbling with a frown
Their beauty won’t stay another day
The Wind is surely taking them away
Their season is over, it is plain to see
Now someone has to rake them, I guess it is me
The leaves have fallen once again,
another season has come and gone.
Those leaves teach us much
for they know they must fall,
yet they hang on -- proud and strong.
Our seasons throughout life are unique to each of us,
but very similar to those leaves.
Without falling we cannot reach, we cannot grow,
we cannot love deeper.
You know what -- we are those leaves,
we must continually fall and rise again
in order to live and love to the fullest.
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
Autumn 2001
Dooralong Valley, NSW Australia
A 40 acre property to retire to - kept us
far more busy than our ‘working life’.
The swimming pool - that bright blue jewel
that bane of our existence, occupied us
incessantly, especially
when Autumn leaves covered the lawn.
Preemptively I would rake them, and rake them
and rake them before the wind could take them
to spread them on the pool
If I missed raking them, then with a net
I’d be scooping them, and scooping them
heavy, soaking and wet.
I was almost glad when our one ton stud bull
escaped into the home yard,
plunged into the pool, and put his hoof
through the lining,
No more raking that year but Summer was
the longest and hottest yet.
Fall Flavors Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
You can smell Autumn on the wind
as the leaves change from green
to yellow, red and orange
Eventually to fall to the ground
for you to have to rake up
You rake the leaves into
nice, big piles
You decide before you bag them
to have a little fun
You take a flying leap
straight into the middle of
the pile of your choosing
sending leaves of every
color in all directions
It gives you more work
as you rake up the mess you made
But you had fun in the moment
On this cool Autumn day
Contest Title: Fall Flavors Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Theme used: Raking Leaves
Written on: September 6, 2022
raking dried leaves
as a mouse escapes
cat chases
crisp winds
blowing through my hair
birds in flight
a harvest
of fresh pumpkins
squirrel with nut
a blue corn moon
rises on horizon
autumn chill
pumpkin cookies
baking for ghosts and ghouls
tricks and treats
fallen leaves gathered
plastic sacks for discarding
my tired, aching back
not again is my refrain
boy next door has autumn job
written September 1, 2021
Wind
B l e w
Leaves
Feet
D r a g
Line
10/29/2020
In Just A Few Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Stretch, pile together.
Work first,, then toss in to play.
Shouldn't life be like.
The tines of the rake
comb through a dispersing tumble.
Ocher clumps form random hillocks,
most slip through the iron teeth
dancing drunkenly away.
I was called into the rushing air.
Physical work with the dead and dying
is a ‘calling’ isn’t it?
The newly deceased keep falling.
Maple leaf bones crackle underfoot.
I scoop their remains,
brush an autumnal cerecloth,
shake the dead into swirls of afterlife.
The wind has blown
All the fallen leaves
Downward to the ground
This is not the first time
All the raking starts
Raking a pile of leaves
Fifty bags are packed
More bags will be filled
There are more leaves
to spill
Until all has spread
To be raked once more
For the very last time
Yard waste bags,
seasonal toll and drive
need a rake
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