Maple garb

The maple in my yard
shed its summer garb
worn-out clothes dropped on the spot
tossed to the ground
how lacking in self-consciousness
to hold nude arms and trunk
skyward inviting snow and hail
to stand bare before all the northern elements
and shout, "I am ready!"
and I gather the wet, rotting leaves
their weight jarring me awake
to how much I carry that is
worthless and cumbersome
needing to be raked off and taken
away

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