i)
an acre of leaves
aspen, maple, a few birch
raked by one monk
ii)
wind picks-up
could cuts right through
these monk's work robes
Monk Warmth
layers...sure,
but the secret lies deeper
my old SFDCI sweater
ragged n'warm
tucked under
flapping robes
Leaves
wrote a few poems about these leaves
when they were green, then red, then fallen
now wheelbarrowed forest deep
to nourish new monk poems
Every time I feel grumbly about having to rake leaves again I tell myself it's good exercise. Now I'll think of these sweet poems when I pick up my rake.
ReplyDeletehah, i feel like i should bury most of what i write to nourish what comes next. what comes next is always better.
ReplyDeleteLove the sound of that sweater! Our front yard is layered in leaves too. My sister tried to rake and gave up - we are going in on a leaf blower!
ReplyDeleteAnd we are all waiting for new monk poems, even as we savor the old.
ReplyDeleteGreat, clever ending. One of the rare poems about poetry that's actually good. Awesome work.
ReplyDeleteInspires me to go out raking leaves myself. Enjoyed these escapades of the monk.
ReplyDeleteI love the continuity of these. "Leaves" is certainly my favorite though. In Edmonton it's already winter.
ReplyDelete