deepundergroundpoetry.com
Yard Work
Happily performing
my Saturday chores.
Sweeping up leaves
and other bits
of nature’s detritus.
Ecstatic to be outdoors.
Fallen foliage,
too young and green
for their final descent.
Did they voluntarily jump,
in a mass botanical suicide?
defying natural senescence.
No, they were pushed.
Their tender petioles
severed from arboreal perch
by last night’s, petulant hail storm
in league with punishing wind.
Storm clouds gather.
Distant thunder rumbles.
Prescient, strong wind blows,
heralding a downpour.
Have my efforts been in vain?
Soon more leaves will fall.
In their prime, cut down
by persistent pelting rain.
my Saturday chores.
Sweeping up leaves
and other bits
of nature’s detritus.
Ecstatic to be outdoors.
Fallen foliage,
too young and green
for their final descent.
Did they voluntarily jump,
in a mass botanical suicide?
defying natural senescence.
No, they were pushed.
Their tender petioles
severed from arboreal perch
by last night’s, petulant hail storm
in league with punishing wind.
Storm clouds gather.
Distant thunder rumbles.
Prescient, strong wind blows,
heralding a downpour.
Have my efforts been in vain?
Soon more leaves will fall.
In their prime, cut down
by persistent pelting rain.
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