Breathtaking beauty meets my eye,
Leaves of yellow, red, and gold..
No picture ever could reflect
The scenes I’m able to behold.
Fall has come again in glory,
God’s great works, oh, so profound;
But then later in the season,
My lowered vision sees the ground.
Their colors fade somewhat in time,
And the leaves begin to pile;
I start to make excuses then,
Put off the raking for awhile.
Finally, the task is pressing,
And the work must onward go,
And the leaves that were so lovely
Now become a living foe.
First they’re falling, floating down,
Then each one takes on a face,
As they dance and laugh, and mock me,
The challenge is for faster pace.
Raking, stooping, piling, burning,
Frantically I try to win,
Then the slightest breeze above me,
Puts them in the lead again.
Aw, there comes a storm, with wind,
And alas, my head I bow;
Now I hear them laughing, cheering,
“He will never catch us now.”
A momentary lull in battle,
My back is sore, hands are scarred;
But as I look, I realize
There’s now no path across my yard.
So gathering my strength and will,
I face the enemy with glee,
“Yard fiends, I belong not to you,
But you, instead, belong to me.”
Determined now to overcome,
Doggedly, I labor on,
Finally their pace is slowed,
Just ‘cause most of them are gone.
The limbs above are stark and bare,
Dullness, drabness setting in;
No more leaves to float or fall,
Lawn swept clean where they had been.
But through the smoke there drifts a sound,
And from somewhere I can hear,
“Though we concede to you for now,
We’ll be back again next year!”
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