He raked the leaves into a tumbled heap,
And stood with rake in hand to watch them burn;
And he was thinking just how hard it was
That he must soon unclasp his hold on life
And tumble back to earth like any leaf,
When one came whirling from its branch above
To fall upon his fire and be consumed.
He shivered, though the fire and day were warm,
And put his rake away and went inside
To take down from its shelf the Holy Writ
And, blowing off the dust, he opened it.
by Ray Romine Monday, October 14, 1946
