Raking...

...is sometimes productive in unexpected ways.


Leaves

I used to revel in fall
to taste sweet amber light
to inhale life
with the crisp, smoky scent
of leaves spiraling down
in a thousand shades
of gold, crimson and brown

now each leaf
is gilded with lead
hurtling down
toward its inevitable decay
falling straight and hard
like a stone strikes the ground
like the hollow sound
of a heavy clapper clanging
the knell of death’s bell.