I
must
confess
when I saw
your leaves of Autumn
that you raked in such a neat pile,
I leapt into the mound, kicking colors everywhere.

Ab scis sion
blew      time
across
child hood,      tick ling          me       to
crackle
them     all
over
your     lawn.

I sat with leaves stuck to my clothes and tip of my nose.
I'm sorry that I'm not sorry
you must rake the leaves
once again,
maybe,
just
once