RED FALL/ BROWN FALL--IT'S HANGING ON TOO LONG

Rake mahogany and cherry colored leaves.

The only warmth will come from an eager parent who sends his kids out

Too soon to do yard work,

Or from an understanding parent who thinks of pool days not that long ago

And sounds of "Marco" answered by "Polo" and allows

Leaves to blow or rot until they move no more towards the edge of the house.

But most are forced out,

Some go willingly

To rake or drag soggied leaves to burn.

As cold sneaks down their shirt collars

And up their sleeves, shrunken by another year's growth.

Swirls around their ears, glowing red

And the smoke of incomplete burning, combustion lacking substance,

But full of air causing green smoke,

Thick with phlegm like Fourth of July fireworks snakes

As it tries to burn bright orange.

The huge sycamore

The hard to start elm

That got caught up in the crowd,

Mashed in the myriad of onslaught feet

Lies dormant on bottom.

The carnage of Fall

Not yet complete,

For this is only the first battle

Followed by leaf jumpings

And rake blisters bubbling

On thumb and palm

(Tear them off, that skin's gone)

Until no leaves dance

Until no leaves join in and swirl

Like miniature tumbleweeds

Until only those that lie are soaked.

Too bad you can't play Leaf Marco Polo.