Raking Leaves

There are passions
of our beings
past flowers,
trees.

My heart
received your
good-bye
letter,
today

In the aftermath
I rake leaves
― fervently ―
into the street.

It’s colder
here than usual.
What day is this?

Raking Leaves

 

 

There are passions

of our beings

past flowers,

trees.

 

My heart

received your

good-bye

letter,

today.

 

In the aftermath

I rake leaves

― fervently ―

into the street.

 

It’s colder

here than usual.

What day is this?