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.