The Leaf Mower

The Leaf Mower

Stop mowing, mower!
At least blow the leaves,
so they retain a bit of their wispy magic.

Your machine churns and crunches,
chopping up nature’s elegance –
brush strokes of the Earth.

Red and gold, purple and orange –
spun about like little pieces of confetti,
in no particular order.

Why mow, blow, or rake at all?
Can we not savor
the last offerings of fall?

Ginko Tree, College Square

Brilliant yellow,

a bright and burning sun,

is your canopy.

First frost,

one day later,

and a carpet of leaves

is crushed beneath my feet.