
leaves piled before gate
light filtering through their stead
time to rake is now

leaves piled before gate
light filtering through their stead
time to rake is now

the half moon rising
through a tree half full of leaves
soon we’ll all be gone

ready or not, jump
hand in hand, let’s ride the wind
as long as it takes
to decay and be absorbed
to bud again one fine spring
strong southwesterly
swirling through the closed alley
oak leaves fly again