This is the season of lawns and leaves
The gravitational pull of early autumn
So here we are, just me and this skeleton rake
Scraping our way over the turf
Two dancers, simply stepping back
Through the fallen, just pulling and piling.
A conspiracy, revealing a bright green 'X'
and four damp triangles in yellow and gold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem