One will never know how hard it is to sweep leaves away
Until one has done it before:
They spread as you gather them
They head north as you try to get them South
They are everywhere when you want them at one place
They seem to almost have a life of their own;
Under the sweltering heat you sweep them
As beads of perspiration form like a necklace around your neck
And when you think all is still in a heap under the sun
A gust of wind blows and they take flight as you look on and sigh;
You look at the dead leaves fall on the ground
A reminder of what once was the crowning beauty of a majestic tree
Reduced to nothing but a pile of lifelessness to be swept away
To make space for the cycle of life that goes on regardless;
Oh how hard it is to sweep away the leaves of yesterday!
Somehow the above lines, after being written, feels a little like a metaphor for memories and things of the past (yesterday), that has to go in order to make space for what is to come. This is the cycle of life, that what has come must go, and what has gone will have to come round again. Sounds slightly nostalgia, but this continuity is itself the essence of life.