19. Fall fire
© Bruce Goodman 1 March 2016
(By way of explanation: I have decided to post on the first of each month a poem in a specific form. Throughout that month, if further poems are created and posted, they will all use that form. The poetic form chosen for March 2016 is the Sextilla. The Sextilla is a poem with stanzas of six lines, usually each line being 8 syllables. It rhymes aabccb or ababcc.)
There’s not too much that’s left to say
About this golden autumn day.
The fallen leaves that fell last year
Have rotted now and turned to mush.
The trees again grew green and lush
But now stand naked, grey and bare.
I’ve raked the leaves and piled high
Some sticks and things for autumn fire,
And once the breeze blows all the time
I’ll light the leaves and watch them burn
And hope the wind won’t ever turn
Away from next door’s washing line.
You see, at six o’clock this morn
They began to mow their lawn,
And then began to prune their trees
With chainsaws blasting on full choke;
So I’m sending autumn smoke
To stink their house and make them wheeze.
There’s little worse than smoke-filled clothes,
And smoky drapes and runny nose,
And laundry smelling in a heap;
I’m even stinking out their car
With stench of ash and sticky tar.
In future may they let me sleep.