Iridescent maple keys and fallen leaves rustle as they shuffle cross the walk.
Progressing by inches with each gust,
they sweep the cement carefree.
Toiling happily, as men yearn to do, they needn’t bother to work up a sweat,
but laze along what should be moist and crawling with virescent grasses,
hoping to lodge in some sweet, black spot, and begin creating life anew.