Riley welch is a poet from texas living in colorado. She posts three original poems a week. 

Bossy

Green leaves
overlapped,
rich and rooted
on a big, brown, bossy
oak tree
outside a mother's house.

[The particular mother in this case is not important, but it is important to note that it is a mother.]

And the leaves fell
occasionally
as squirrels would run
under and over and under
the turbulent
twisty
branches of that big, brown, bossy oak.
And as the leaves fell
the oak willed them
to stay.

[Because, remember, the oak tree is bossy.]

But
they did not
because once they

detached

without a place to go
they had no choice
but
to litter the mother's
lawn.
And it became coated
in all these
leaves.

[Although the squirrels aren't really to blame here, this is just nature.]

And eventually,
so many leaves piled up,
the mother-

[Just a mother, specific mothers are still not important to this story.]

-had a son
or daughter
or helpful neighborhood kid
rake up those leaves.
Usually for a couple of bucks.

[Probably a crisp five, or four ones, because it seems like as much, but isn't.]

And a soda,
because sugar is invaluable.

But in a few months,
Fall would set in
and all the leaves could fall at once
and the squirrels
wouldn't matter
anyway.

[The squirrel would still matter, just not in the context of the leaves.]

And then the son
or daughter
or helpful neighborhood kid
would rake in the big bucks
in raking up yards
for more than just
a few
off-season
fives and sodas.

And the big, brown, bossy tree
would be glad
because it would have willed the leaves
to fall
this time.

8/24/2015
Riley Welch


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