1000 leaves per hour.
Witnessed through my kitchen window.
That's what the wind does
to the trees behind
and to me.
1000 leaves per hour.
168,000 every seven days.
Weekly raked
through cold windy wet November,
colder windier wetter December.
1000 leaves per hour.
Matted and morphed.
A semi-slimy carpet
of browns, of yellows,
of worms.
1000 leaves per hour.
The conspiracy.
Between wind and the trees,
trees and the weather,
weather and the welly makers.
1000 leaves per hour.
Until the far end of the season.
Clearing gutters
to extract two months
of decomposing yuck.
Zero leaves per hour.
In January I will hibernate.
With books
and coffee
and duvet.