I swept the grand deck,

I held up the broom.

I knew I had not

Gathered leaves too soon.

Tree droppings scattered

All over the place,

And the time was ripe

To clean outside space.

Quick as I finished

The wind whooped and laughed.

And downward floated

More leaves on the path.


Were sore diminished

I threw up my hands

And succumbed to the image.


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