The Leaf-blower

It’s that crimson time of year again;
He is back, in the morning gloom.
Blowing away autumn’s jewelled delights;
And I drive past and give a sigh.

The seasons come the seasons go;
And we push on, the cycle rolls;
And once a turn I see him there;
Early out, without a care.

Endless falling, endless blowing;
And to me it is the endless knowing;
That to some a show of awesome beauty;
Is to others a pain of endless duty.

And one day, I guess, the time will come;
When I drive past, and he is gone.
The leaf-blower no more, or someone else;
Blowing, blowing, away oneself.

Written by: K.C. Karah