Seems like yesterday when I stood
grass under foot in my yard
berating those damn trees for throwing
their leaves all about like children
And now I'm looking forward
to my weekly visit from that
old rake next door. Waiting for those
cookies to warm my winded skeleton.
The skin on my hands has wrinkled and
shattered my youth with one strong
blow of the wind outside, causing the trees
to dance and do their striptease once again.