Oh the happy leaf blower
Who sees me raking across the street
Dragging my tool over the scattered litter
My chapped hands catching splinters from the
A film of green develops from right to left as I toil
While the piles of leaves along the curb
Grow taller and taller,
The wind threatening to destroy
All of my work.
He crosses the road to the neighbor’s lawn
To help them, I think,
Only he backtracks slowly
Moving me out of the way
Towards the garage.
I take refuge from the insulting
Noise and fumes of his blower
As I watch the tornado of swirling gold and red and brown
Take flight in the fall morning
He scatters them and gathers them up
And leaves them in a larger pile on the curb
Before offering me a satisfied smile and a wave goodbye.
I raise my hand, rub my ears,
And wish I had more to rake.
*this image was pulled from an internet search...
Here you will find a catalog of my writing and reflections.