Ode To A Broken Rake

My yard lay buried beneath autumn’s final fury

Covered in leaves, mountains of leaves

The tundra gasping and choking for oxygen

And this was not even of my making

The dreaded giant oak next door had rained down its closing blast

Dead matter everywhere, decaying foliage

Now festering and rotting in a heap upon my lawn

I went to fetch my rake to eradicate this awful mess

I looked, but could not find it anywhere

When I inquired about the location of my tool

I was told that the rake was broken

That the tines had all fractured and fallen off

I shed a tear that my trusted friend was gone

That it had died, no longer useful, discarded so abruptly

I did not inquire why a new rake had not been procured

A bright, shiny, one with new strong tines

Perhaps there were hopes the leaves would all blow away

That they would all magically float to someone else’s place

But now I am powerless to rid myself of this disgusting mass of filth

Because my rake, my rake, is broken

It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off

I can hear the leaves now mocking me

“You had planned to gather us all in bags and burn us”

“But now you can’t, because your rake is broken”

“It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off”

“You thought you could dispose of us with ease”

“But even though we are dead, yet we live”

 “Viva la resurrection and viva la revolution!”

Ha! A true leaf “movement” would have them moving off my yard

A real “uprising” would be them up-rising and landing somewhere else

This was more like a “sit in” that I was powerless to stop

My property was being taken over by plant-based radicals

They had the upper hand and they shall not be moved

Because my rake, my rake, is broken

It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off 

I stand there, my head hung in shame

All the other yards are free of leaves, pristine, beautiful

Because the neighbors cleaned their plots using rakes

Rakes that were unbroken, rakes with tines that are intact

I waited ‘til the stubborn oak had played is final card

It is tyranny, egregious tyranny, I tell you

My domain is held captive and I am helpless to free it

Perhaps someone would be kind enough to loan me their rake

They had no need of it because their leaves are all gone

I will just explain to them that my rake is broken and it has no tines

I knock feverously at their doors, but no one answers

But I persist because winter approaches and the leaves are many

And my rake, my rake, is broken

It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off

I cry out, “Please kind sir, my yard is full of dead, decaying, leaves”

“My grass is suffocating and perishing underneath this deathtrap”

“My rake is broken and it has no tines”

“The tines have all fractured and fallen off”

“Please, please, I’m begging you”

“Have mercy on, have mercy on me!”

“Let me borrow your rake so I may clean my yard”

My pleas are met with silence, no one will help me

They are at home, but they are fearful I will fracture their tines

Then their rake would be broken also and they would be as pathetic as I

I return to my house rakeless, to the laughter of the leaf commune

I fall to my knees, shake my fist, and wail loudly

Because my rake, my rake, is broken

It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off