Father Rakes Leaves
It is early afternoon and
Father rakes leaves beneath a heavy cloud.
He is unafraid of storms and brushes the foliage
beneath streaked branches.
The cloud, it is angry,
a billowing general angry and loud.
Father, he is alone,
but not lonely,
in the red-green-brown expanse.
The cloud, it is angry,
it beckons its brethren,
the looming battalions angry and proud.
Father, he muses in the company of a thoughtful understanding
and brushes the tree-lost foliage across the leaf-splayed landing.
The clouds, they are an angry crowd,
descending their breeze-blown chariots,
and Father rakes leaves.
- The School of Mankind (Considering Ecclesiastes) - April 27, 2022
- Considerations - April 27, 2021
- One last beautiful gift of insanity from the incredible mind of Benjamin Lloyd Plunkett - May 6, 2020