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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