Leaves

i’ve dispatched as many as are left on the trees

mulch they are now with more to come

the battle isn’t over until next year maybe june

in the meantime the grandkids will delight in the fun

leaves offer resonable entertainment these days

around thanksgiving every year we would rake and

race into the piles of crunchy delights

wearing their mass down to half the original

a semiretired cotton picker basket

made the perfect impliment for rebuilding the mound

on and on the day went until the leaves and we

were slap worn out

it hasn’t changed much given the evolution of the transistor

some might say it’s stupid neanderthal play

that’s ok once you’ve jumped into a pile of cushioney oak leaves

the urge for a primal scream just takes over

bring your cotton picker and rakes

smart phones are optional in low-tech endeavors

jrw 11/18/2012

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About jingeorgia

Searching high and low no matter where i go it always seems the same: shades of grey. Or, was that gray?
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2 Responses to Leaves

  1. Beth Marie says:

    Great poem. The grandkids are having fun!

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