Grateful for Genes
Raking up the damn infernal,
eternal leaves and grass
every year without fail
they fall on my heart, brain and breath,
can't even burn the dang things no more
so I do it to make my wife happy
wonder if I will still rake if she goes first
but, sweating and swearing,
now realize at 80 how many
I knew are under the ground
with the colored leaves on top,
red blood, yellow phlegm,
orange juice physic, purple splotches,
wonder if they can hear
the raking and the bitching,
or know how grateful I am
I can still do it at all,
don’t have to hire
a neighbor boy yet.
