Gathering them up was a task in a fleece,
There was an uninterrupted fall from trees,
Leaves came down slowly after a gentle breeze.
Green and yellow leaves lay scattered without a cease,
Twigs small and big landed down in the crease,
They made the garden look like a messy freeze,
Inadvertently it seemed an entertainment set to please.
Cleaning up was a target beyond reach,
Finding a team was a difficult breach,
The work had to be done with a screech,
As there was no time to impeach.
Like the dry leaves thoughts crowd
The mind quivers in a desperate shroud,
Sprucing it up seems to be a task loud,
Resuming equanimity is like a falling cloud.
The imbalance strikes hard mercilessly,
Reviewing it generates apprehension enormously,
Yet gardens could be swept and cleaned spotlessly,
But the mind withholds the trials though not erroneously.