“Ode to a Leaf Blower,” a Poem by Jill Bialosky
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Leaves tangled & braided in limp limbs
of the still surviving perennials, our yard a battlefield
of trees towering at least seventy feet high, squeezing out the sun,
& slowly letting go of their dead. I suited up in jeans,
vest, hat, gloves, to protect myself from ticks,
armed with the EGO Power cordless 56-volt lithium
blower, shaped like a machine gun, the battery so heavy
I held it with two hands,
its intensity & vibration, a constant whhhhhhhrrrrrr,
decimated all sound; red, brow
of the still surviving perennials, our yard a battlefield
of trees towering at least seventy feet high, squeezing out the sun,
& slowly letting go of their dead. I suited up in jeans,
vest, hat, gloves, to protect myself from ticks,
armed with the EGO Power cordless 56-volt lithium
blower, shaped like a machine gun, the battery so heavy
I held it with two hands,
its intensity & vibration, a constant whhhhhhhrrrrrr,
decimated all sound; red, brow
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