Leaves

Yellow, Rust, and Red.

Scatter the ground like a million little

Sunsets.

Rake them into piles,

Splotches of paint on a giant artist's

Palette.

And during the night,

the moon will create another wonderous

Landscape.

Rake them up again.

As you did yesterday and will tomorrow.

In vain.

Still, you rake the leaves.

For someday soon you know the treetops will be

Barren.

And what business does a man have with an empty tree?