A sign of things to come

Leaves clog like cholesterol. They’re evil. They’re more slippery than a bad idea. They’re more persistent than a pimple on prom day. They’re worse than hearing someone say, “We need to talk.” Leaves multiply like fleas and poke like tiny little needles and for the next three months, I’ll rake them away only to see another layer of crispy leaves flop onto my driveway.

Do you like autumn as much as I do?