Thursday, October 26, 2006

The Tree Verses Me

ME
I'll not be raking leaves this year
I'll not be raking leaves
The wind-
It blows
And then it snows
Soon winter will be here.

They've been hanging 'round all summer
And next spring-
They'll still be here
Why should I rake
And do today
What I can put off till next year.

THE TREE
The icy breath
Of winter death
Surrounds my form so old.
My naked limbs
Scratch at the sky
And frolic in the cold.