Fragrantly bloom
In the midst of June

Discarding leaves
With hefty ease

 White flowers die
Browned petals dry

 Then downward flutter
All messy clutter.

Beware ~ 

This tree's mean
‘Tho looks don’t seem

It hates the rake ~
That sealed the fate 

Of that poor slob
Just doin’ his job

To clean the ‘burb
Out to the curb

Now ~ 

He’s buried beneath
With no relief 

Leaves & bloom
So sad, this doom. 

© 2003 Maryjo Faith Morgan