The following started out as a letter to my favorite sister. I own a Honda Gold Wing. For those non-biker types that's a touring bike, built for travelling long distances. I love getting on it and winding it up on back country roads. Great stress reliever. Well, here was this beautiful fall Saturday and I had to clean up the damn yard. I was not a happy camper. After I finished my yard chores, I e-mailed sis and griped a little (knowing I wasn't getting any sympathy). After I finished, I proof read it and saw some possibilities. So I did a bit of reformatting, took a little poetic license and this is the end result. No, it's not a literary masterpiece, but maybe it will give you a chuckle. Especially if you're a bike fanatic like me. Leaves. Fall. That season of bright sunshine and brisk temperatures. They have been waiting silently since spring. Plotting, brooding sullenly. Now they attack. Their once green foliage dropping to earth like paratroopers on D-Day. Oak, dogwood, hickory in conspiracy. Pine, that liar who pretends to keep his crown while all the while surreptitiously dropping brown needles onto my carefully manicured lawn. Magnolia, like a crafty woman, convinces you to keep her by wearing beautiful flowers in her hair. Then dumps huge, ugly, brown leaves by the millions. Once again I sally forth dutifully to clear the lawn of the myriad leaves gleefully deposited by my sadistic wooden tormentors. On the way i pass my two wheeled friend. She sits gleaming silently in the garage. Looking like a huge red glass sculpture lighted from within. Inviting me once again to fly down country roads. Speed limits be damned. Heavy sigh. Rake in hand, I go to do my penance. As soon as I begin to rake, the leaves cease to fall. They are watching, waiting. I finish. The lawn is clear and pristine. I put the rake away and return to the front yard to admire the fruit of my efforts. To my horror, it looks the same as it did before I started. In a blind fury I find the chain saw. I crank it and walk around the yard. The saw makes that satisfying, threatening cacophony as I rev its engine. It scares the sap out of them. I scrape just a little bark off their arrogant hides for good measure. The leaves stop falling. Now they will hang on for at least a week. Another victory, albeit temporary. Leaves. Nature's way of screwing up my weekend.