The Yard-Sweeper Song

The stuffed-nose trees
Let loose a sneeze, the sting of fall is sated
Thawed fishing line
Of twigs and twine, with olden chatter stirring

A spice shelf dumped
Amidst the clumped, and o’er thick smell-teasers
Nipped rosemary
Swathed in Sherry, and crumbs of aged vanilla

The breath of earth
Can pillage mirth, while luring my hardships
And waltz upon
The scent of gone, between my hands and haggle

The sun is left
His strength bereft, unmatched for dusk to topple
The insects prance
A rumba dance, to party, feast, and mingle

With solid stride
Yet limber pride, I exhale the workday lung-full
And one last glance
To seal the chance, of self-assumed horizons

Drunk on the milk
Like supple for silk, comrades bid me farewell
And part in my wake
With wink to my rake, See you again tomorrow