Olde New England Leaves

That time of year again, the SAD kicks in. Been lazy in the writing department.
Anywho, a seasonal piece, posted in it's appropriate season for a change;


Olde New England Leaves

 Doing thirty miles-an-hour and
  diggin nice the breeze,
On an autumn Saturday,
  all the New England trees
Are God colored,
  when next I see,
What in hell is this?
  it was an rustic handwrit sign, read,
 
 ‘Olde New England Leaves!
You rake ‘em, You take ‘em,
          - and Free!
 Come on on in, puh-lease?’

Then and there that sign lit as touch paper
  the warm memories of I as a child,
Those youthful leaf raking weekends
  and then the thing that we did next!

So I turned off with a signal and a skid and I asked,
  "Ok, what is it I buy?"
The rustic Yankee Farmer just pointed to his shed, and said,
  "Son, you just give that rake a try!"
Its’ handle was worn, smooth, pure
  strong broomstick stock,
Though raking up his yard was hard work, sure,
  it rekindled youthful feelings, strong and good,
You could ask, "Ought need I a pair a gloves,
  or else I’ll get a blister?"
No thank you, Mom! Today I’m workin’, I’m a man!
   and I won’t be cryin’ like my sister! 

When time came that I’d got those leaves
  all raked up in a pile,
The Farmer handed me a big trash bag,
  but I, with my smirkiest smile, said "No!"
And with a tint of adventurous drama, asked
  "May I climb up on your roof?"
That’s when he started starin’ at me, like I was
  one profoundly ludicrous goof,
Yet then he went in the shed and brought out for me
  his clanking aluminum ladder,
That, frankly, was the answer to,
  all right now that really mattered

And there, from that high corner place, I jumped!
   out over the biggest autumn leaf pile in the world…
Extending my arms, like a swan or dove,
  I felt I flew for kind of a while,
And next when I hit that Big Leaf stack,
  it exploded!
Orange…yellow… leaves… blowing up in the air,
  all which soon down settled in a second round of autumn
Everywhere! all over again,
 
So, then I drove home,
  smugly content to be leaving those leaves
No different from how they’d been
  when first today, I’d reminisced again, on 

Damn, those Olde New England Leaves!