Sue Selmer
Under a row of sweetgum trees,
brittle leaves lie curled and deep.
I rake them into colorful heaps swish-crackle, swish-crackle.
The sound and tempo surprise me,
recalling some other place.
On a calm day, wavelets lapped
a gentle rhythm at the edge
of a pebbled sloping shore
swish-crackle, swish-crackle.
I hear the pulse of the ocean
in the sweep of fallen leaves.
Clamor 