Thursday, November 10, 2016

November Morning by Jerry Durick

November Morning

Leaves are no match for me,
Mulching mower and all
Stepping out, following
The design I remember
From summer when all
These leaves were in full
Green, waving, blooming
Seeming to cheer me on
As the mower chopped and
Spit out bits of grass, but
Now they’ve yellowed and
Quieted, fall slowly down
Lie there waiting; I become
The grim reaper, the chopper
Down, the mowing mulcher,
The dragger away, the sole
Survivor cleaning up what’s
Left of our term, our seasons;
The grass, the tree and its leaves
Go by, victims of these cold
November nights, and I mow on
Following the pattern I know
So well, become a small part of
This greater scheme of things.


J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Social Justice Poetry, Tuck Magazine, Yellow Chair ReviewSynchronized Chaos, and Haikuniverse.

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