Bluheron

By Bluheron

Dogwood Leaves

The temperature drops.
A rain begins. 
In the aftermath
My rake pulls fallen leaves
golden wet through green of lawn.
Lifted into the air on the tines of rake, 
A pile of light and color forms.
A memory of tossed leaves from childhood...
and laughter rises in the fall air.

Comments
Sign in or get an account to comment.