Covering ground

This has been up here too long:

tough as we sound
our eyes
on the fireflies
-Paul Pfleuger, Jr.

I have been too lazy to refresh this and although there was one haiku that haunted me throughout this winter, it was too special to put up somehow. But talking of things that need to be cleared, here is the new one:

falling leaves
my friend and I
discuss clutter
-Connie Donleycott

It is autumn again and the leaves are falling. We have two Ashoka trees and the leaves are yellowing and dropping off in abundance. It is hot and dry too, so the ground crackles with the ones that are a day old, but the very top layer of the carpet is made up of softer vegetation.
My mother hated the mess they made. I always thought fallen leaves romantic and often tried to curb her zeal in ruthlessly clearing them out. If she had her way my mother would sweep the yard four times a day.
But holding house in her stead now, the leaves no longer seem that enchanting. We burnt a huge pile of them yesterday and just as the colony sweepers started to walk away from the still-smouldering fire, there was a dust-gale. It brought down a fresh flutter of gold and there was no help for it at all.

I wish my friend was here, even if only to discuss the clutter.