One Minute for Teeth
scrape, plink, plink, and swoosh.
listened as his rake moved back and forth over the freshly fallen autumn
leaves. He was glad that the forecast had been wrong last night about the
predicted rain. Wet leaves would be gloppy. The teeth of his rake had no desire
to gnaw lazily at piles of mush! It was the sultry sound of newly dried leaves
that the rake’s teeth were created to chomp at. The backyard pile grew and grew
on. Crunch, scrape, plink, plink, and swoosh.
written on Friday, June 22, 2012