My neighbor is at it again,
his leaf blower buzzing
as he vacuums nature.
I want to take the leaf blower out of his hands,
tell him with his crew cut
and neatly pressed jeans
To let the leaves be indolent teens who nap all day
and race around on windy nights
wild to escape their fate,
instead of obedient recruits waiting at the curb
huddled with their kind.
I want to remind him that
in the morning we’ll be even again:
Leaves covering both our yards
His will lose their way, run with the wrong crowd,
get dizzy, fall down and sleep wherever they land.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 