Gathering Leaves – Robert Frost

Poem

 

It is autumn, sooner or later the leaves will turn all shades of yellow, red, orange and brown and then they will start to fall.

Did you know that Fall, as in Autumn, comes from an old English Feallen meaning the falling of the leaves. American and Canadian use this term for one of the four seasons whilst the Brits have semi-abandoned Fall for the French Autompne and Latin Autumnus

I love the leaves when they are newly fallen, they create such a lovely colours underfoot. But given a few days, they would turn dirty brown and break up and get slushy in the rain. Raking them in is such a chore too. 🙁

Gathering Leaves

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.

But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.

I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who’s to say where
The harvest shall stop?

Robert Frost