Raking Leaves

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.

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