by Wayne Scheer
I try to decide
if the leaves
on my front lawn
look like a quilt
carefully arranged
by Mother Nature
or colors dappled
haphazardly
by a drunken
Jackson Pollock.
Either way
it's beautiful,
and I vow
not to disturb
it with my rake.
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Love how images come into my mind and how this image will not be raked in the poem!
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