Second Spring
Second Spring
...amidst the fallen leaves...
All the leaves are brown
and have fallen to the ground
beneath the young ash tree
anchored to the hill beside me.
While I rake those leaves
my thoughts turn to music,
some sort of distraction
from the cold and my chore.
I want rhythm and rhyme,
a quick turn of phrase,
and a driving, energetic beat
to keep me warm until I finish.
But my soul desires country music,
simple words and string instruments.
It wants to be told a good story,
and for me to let the leaves lie.
Autumn is a second spring
when every leaf is a flower.
~ Albert Camus
