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 Review , Synchronized Chaos , and Haikuniverse .