No medical conundrum has struck my fancy lately, and thus, no related poem. To fill space, here is my take on the leaves of my neighborhood.

Leaf vs. Lawn

While walking around
My neighborhood,
I get a feeling
For what's bad and what's good,
By looking at lawns
Garages and such,
I make assumptions
About those
Who seem to care too much;
Preening their lawns
Like a thoroughbred horse,
With a legion of gardeners
At a private golf-course,
Preparing for a tourney
Of high-stakes croquet,
While in reality
It's just my neighbor
Setting up Santa's sleigh.

He decorated the trees
The bushes and the flowers,
What's up with that, I wonder
With leisure time, for hours,
I wonder if he's working
Retired or laid-off,
Then I see a puff of smoke
And listen to him cough,
Thereby, furthering my suspicions
He has lung-disease and more,
I silently admonish him
And pity him, the chore.

With a little more attention
I compare the state of leaves,
Some lawns like mine, are full of them
And others beset by thieves,
Intent on dispatching all evidence
Via obsessive-compulsive removal,
As I relax before my blanket of leaves
I silently wave my approval.

Driving along my home avenue
I play my game, "Leaf vs. Lawn",
To the average reality-show junkie
It would barely register a yawn.

Fibril_late;
12/7/08