Raking Is Fun Poem by Ben Gieske

raking with the breezes
as long as it pleases
just a patch with no boundaries or limits set
maybe from that rose bush
newly decked in its spring green or
from where the grass begins its brown

Raking is fun with lots of company,
wild onions clumping all around,
the daffodil hugging the Maple tree,
waving its hands excitedly,
a neighbor’s cat huddled by the edge of the hedge contentedly,
the happy bird somewhere in the tree,
the tendrils of ivy crawling out and playing tag with me.

Raking is fun,
freeing violet blooms from winter’s blanket,
gathering rows of grass, twigs, and leaves
and all of autumn’s leftovers,
scooping them up and letting them sift and
drift into the bin,
crunching them down, crunching them down
into the big recycling bin.

The neighbors passing by might wonder why
What’s with the patch?
not knowing what fun ranking can be
in the sun with breezes while it pleases.

With the rake hanging on its peg,
finally laid to rest,
the breezes some day will welcome me
free from all boundaries
and we will play again.