I Remember

I remember joy as father placed the sapling’s roots in the soft soil.

I remember Autumn as the the elm in the backyard burst into yellow.

I remember each falling leaf left a puzzle piece on the spiny grass.

I remember father’s advice, “Wait until the tree braches are bare”.

I remember raking the crinkled, crunchy leaves before the first frost.

I remember jumping on the higgledly-piggledly piles of dry fluff.

I remember the pitter patter of the light rain on the messy mounds.

I remember the musky-sweet smell of the wet leaf pile.

I remember the days growing short, the low-lit sun and the cool air.

I remember sadness in the fading daylight and the bare branches.