Why I Don’t Rake My Leaves

Why I Don’t Rake My Leaves

for my mom

You may wonder.

They lie there,

unraked, untended, free

to blow where they will.

Front walk hidden in orange

rusty red hues,  tossed,

all that yellow.

It is she that I celebrate,

she who taught me about

leaf piles, and jumping

and crunching across

the whole yard

just because she could.

Foliage decoupaged

by unseen artist, traveling

like an evangelist across

the neighbors’ yards.

Yes, Josephine, yes.

This is one pile of clutter

I will not disturb.

by Linda Trott Dickman

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