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Fall MAG
the metal rake rattled
asits teeth combed the
light brown grass
the fallen leaves waitedto
be scooped up
little by little
I piled them up tree-high, bynow
My hands were pierced with splinters
I climbed on the trunk of thetree and searched
For a branch over the pile
I spotted a limb stickingout.
I crouched on the branch like a bird
and planned my jump
Ileapt off
and glided through the air
landing in the leaves.
I had a goodfeeling in me
as I heard the leaves crackle.
© Anonymous
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