Donnie There are rules and there are reasons: Leaves should be raked--not good for grass; Neighbors grade the yards of neighbors-- Is that a reason, rule... I pass! Leaves are moldy and untidy, In compost heaps they all belong; Nature needs our help, our chiding, Or else the neighborhood... so long! I say leaves are there by reason, And nature needs no help from man. I say grass that's mown is treason, And wish to implement a plan. My dear wife, till summer season, Accedes to Scientific Man: Half the yard I've left to nature; Not hers, but mine--the front is banned. Across our yards, both front and back, Are rows of stately maples trees. In season, each leaf-sequin-dressed, Awaits the stir of autumn breeze-- A million seeds for winter's bath Detach and lie at ladies' feet Like ev'ning gowns let dropped to lie In preparation for night's sleep. The trees are there because of leaves, And seeds of others greening earth; Seeds helicoptered from the sky Assault the land that gives trees birth. Tenacious, they hold on and on Through winter's dark and icy dearth; Prevail through years of rot and mold To grow into grand trees of girth. And so, my plan, experiment, Against intrusion I had banned; Took flight upon the autumn breeze, Until, the rap of Donnie's hand. Insistent, urgent, rap, rap, rap... I rushed to face foreboding gloom. The door unlocked, I found a boy With note in hand that read like doom. "My name is Donnie. I am deaf. I'll rake the leaves in both your yards. It's just a dollar for each one. I did your neighbor's. I work hard." He knew that I had leaves to rake-- The yard was covered like a tent; He knew his price was fairly set, But nothing of experiment. At times the simplest of events Ties motives up with question's bow. What would I do if he could hear? How will he feel should I say no? With patience, hope, and shy goodwill, He held out paper and his pen. In solemn silence, feeling shame, I wrote to Donnie, "Yes, begin." I showed him where to rake the leaves In piles that I could spread once more-- Not hers, but mine, the ones in back-- To save my ship from rocks ashore. "The yards are big, there's lots of leaves. I'll pay you two for each you do." A smile, and then a note with, "Three?" My grin drew out his smile anew... I watched him from the darkened house. Were any sounds within his mind? He raked the leaves into a pile, Went back for missed ones he could find. And these he carried in his hands To add to those of mounded kind-- He, also stubborn, worked with pride; He quit when none were left behind. The yards leaf-free but for the piles, I heard small Donnie's rap, rap, rap. He signed to me his work was done, Then left with six "ones" in his cap. Tomorrow, I will push the leaves And seeds into the compost bins. Experimental Science now Must wait for next year's autumn winds. (C) 7-25-95 Charles SielertBirth sign: Not entered
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