2007 October 27
Must i rake?
The autumnal duty hangs over me like a dead, hung limb,
encumbering its living peers,
ravished by pestilence, ice and wind,
suspended from its descent to Earth.
It's leaves have long departed, the bare, withering vestige
of the healthy conduit it became responding to the call for more
by its annual generations of new leaves.
New leaves. Pages of contiguous cells, each cell playing Life on Earth.
Each cell, thriving green from the deep elixir delivered by its mother branch
connected to Earth's vast reservoir of primary elements: water, minerals, and food.
But its main diet, ethereal, is CO2.
Eating the Carbon, the plant cell exhales, eThereal, life-firing O2.
How convenient! The leaf is my complement!
I need O2, and i leave CO2.
Oh, leaf, my other half,
how else does thou serve me?
Thou shields me from the hot, summer sun.
Thou soothes me, cools me, with Thy varied, dancing forms.
No higher is any life in the breeze you sing with birds,
sweeping the sky of the rubbish i leave behind
my crazed, motored, turn
completing my mission over manufractured ribbons of stone.
Autumnal leaf, Thou has served me well, even now in Thy final days,
alighting my sights with the moving kaleidoscope of Thy fellow leaves, the farther, the more!
In harmony have you played with us below,
now, as blades of grass, preparing for winter.
Even as you lay gently evermore brown, you offer your warming cover,
capping the heat stored by Earth from summer's Sun,
like a thermal
battery to deliver when we on Earth tilt away.
You, there browning, sautéed in descending cool,
are ready for the final act of reincarnation as, by my rake,
you are collected and nestled on the graveyard of mother branches,
under which grateful bunnies persevere the
Thank you, my dear leaves, as i guide you into your new life
becoming the food for your successors on high.