The leaves pile up in clusters,
and after a while their size
Together, they have the power
to rot the boards on which they rest.
Or to keep plants alive through the winter.
As I sweep them across the deck,
they cling to each other tightly
forming what sure feels like a boulder
to my weary arms.
Occasionally a wind comes along
whispering in the opposite direction
we’re going, the leaves and I,
and I notice that it’s only the
leaves who aren’t connected to other leaves,
the ones who aren’t committed
that blow backwards from whence they came.
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