Raking

The noise alone stands apart as the bristly plastic arms scratch away at the hardening soil. The leaves, caught and ripped away, reveal the clean-looking grass. It can breathe again. 

In many ways raking is therapy. Taking the fallen, dead past and brushing it aside. It's clearing the table for the next guests. And it has to happen for the cycle to repeat. 

I have often wondered why people enjoy raking leaves, having not raked in some time. Upon observation, it seems tedious, even mundane. But just 15 minutes in, I suddenly wanted a bigger yard to work as the satisfaction of such a simple act grew with each stroke. 

And when I was finished and my small plot on Earth was clear, I looked up at the tree branches above. There were only a few leaves left and they were waving to me. 

Just letting me know more leaves would fall, more work would come and change never stops.