Leaf BlowersI loathe you,
thick-skinned men
with your crude weapons
strapped around your waists.
You enter an innocent morning,
a perfect crisp day
and start firing --
haze into the clear white sky,
noise into my cloudless thoughts,
leaves and leaves into ugly swirls
and then nice, neat piles --
producing order
in place of the glittering
chaos of Autumn.
7 comments:
Awesome poetry, Jenn!
I love it! You need a stanza about the awful gasoline smell that permeates the air for miles around. :)
Amen! And wakes up the napping kids!
Yes!
Do you remember when I worked on BYU's grounds crew? Remember how awful that man was that I worked for? Remember how he threw rolled up sod at our heads, trying to knock us over and thought it was funny? Remember how I got to run a leaf blower and thought it was awful...until I realized I WAS THE WIND!?!?
lovely! it reminds me of the poem you wrote for two voices in the park. I always remember the line, "like a certain Seurat." beautiful cadence.
I love the poem. I seriously loathe raking up leaves for any other purpose but to play. Leaves were made to be on the ground...it's only natural and it's beautiful...until it rains or snows and everything goes soggy that is. haha
i agree whole heartedly! Love the poem
Post a Comment