Leaves upon the driveway,
Like dry cornflakes in a bowl,
Swept into a neatly crafted pile
Until I turn my back upon them
Just to set aside my broom,
And the autumn breezes
Send them skittering away
To reclaim their corners
And sheltered spaces
Where the eddies
Leave them in swirls
And piles
To crunch beneath the feet
Until cold rains come
And they are tracked
Into the house
Adhering to the soles
Of boots and shoes.
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