Remembering the days of old, when father raked the leaves of

Golden, yellow, brown and orange

Jumping into the huge crisp pile, I tossed them all about

As my father raked them on top of me

I would creep out from under the pile laughing.

With leaves hanging on my hair and clothing

What a wonderful season. What a wonderful reason

Just to play in the leaves.

Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
published in the Crawfordsville, Indiana newspaper
and book three of the IVY TECH Bloomington, Indiana literary magazine