CLEANING UP NATE'S LITTER

Very rough, written very fast

CLEANING UP NATE’S LITTER

 

Where did you come from?

And you there--who are you?

Did you ride in on the wind

from a far-away bayou?

 

Did you cling to that sound--

That furious howl?

Or drag sullenly along

on the ground with a scowl

 

I don’t recognize you--

Your bark, your leaves,

I suspect that you’re foreign

And that place formed your weave

 

Of veins and strange patterns

Of unfamiliar bark

Did you have any choice

of where you’d last park?

 

I’m sorry to tell you

That you cannot stay.

I have enough foliage

My landscape--done my way!

 

So don’t fight the rake

As it pulls you in

A great giant pile

For the roadside bin

 

I hate mixing you in with the trash

But get over it!  Make room!

Make peace with your Maker

That bin is your tomb.

 

 

Author's Note

Popped into my head, through my fingers to the keyboard. Very primitive, much like the nature's litter

Reviews

[k]

I love that you've managed to describe something as mundane and normal as raking up a yard in such a poetic way. This has a really nice flow to it and your form is strong and consistent. Your rhyme scheme is unwavering and never feels forced. I especially like your closing, it's a very strong ending to the poem.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Hi Carol! So glad just foliage litter. Nicely written rant at Mr. Nate for coming and messing up your yard with his alien droppings. Lovely form, flow and rhyme. That should teach him a thing or two about trying to mess with you! Ha! Be careful of your back when raking and hope you and yours have a good, peaceful night.:):)