I see you up there, leaves.

Terrible and wonderful. I love you and I hate you.

I hate you because, soon, you’ll fall. Blanketing my lawn and smothering me in yard work.

I love you because you’re beautiful. Muting the brilliant sunlight and lending to it your green and gold. First born of all stained glass.

I have to choose: Love or hate.

And so I rake. And look up at you. And smile.

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