The Joy Of A Fall Into Leaves
I bury myself face first in the gathered remnants
of another summer fallen.
Tumbling like a wayward leaf, into the multi-colored fragrance of yesterday.
What a heady aroma
assails me floating me
back to childhood days.
Black buckled boots kicking their way through six inches of autumn on my path to school.
Scratchy like an
old man's beard, your grandpas kiss, and yet soft like
a mother's caress on a fevered brow.
I open my eyes in a squint to savor, the brilliant pastel mosaic below me.
The crick-crackle of this huge pile of leaves sounds so much
like candy wrappers at Halloween
which looms just around the corner.
Several of my neighbors
gaze with amusement and ponder the level of my sanity. Their long abandoned youth simply burns the debris of what was and moves on.
But I feel so much
like an eight year old, as I snuggle in this bed of the past, sharing dreams
Soon enough though I rise,
and rake the shedding
of the season into black body bags lined up in neat rows for the Waste
management truck that will be by come mourn.
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III