Autumn

.

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 a 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

I might be absent for a while, the computer and I are going to town tomorrow — and I don't know if the computer will be ready when I'm ready to go back home.