Maple Devil
We were cutting canes and vines
and dead goldenrod away in the blueberry orchard
all down the rows,
when down off the mountain comes this baby dragon,
this tiny taloned hand!
Scoops up a dozen bushels of dead maple leaves
swirls them, barrel rolls them,
a big brown fat wheel of dead maple leaves
engulfs the picnic table
flips it upside down but unseen in the fracas
then pirouettes like a little dust devil
across the lawns
and sits demurely down
under the last maple.
Also, it roared.
We were cutting canes and vines
and dead goldenrod away in the blueberry orchard
all down the rows,
when down off the mountain comes this baby dragon,
this tiny taloned hand!
Scoops up a dozen bushels of dead maple leaves
swirls them, barrel rolls them,
a big brown fat wheel of dead maple leaves
engulfs the picnic table
flips it upside down but unseen in the fracas
then pirouettes like a little dust devil
across the lawns
and sits demurely down
under the last maple.
Also, it roared.
