Chores Stink

I’m not raking leaves this year.
The ones that fall are staying here
Until they turn to mulch or rot
So thoroughly the ground gets hot
Around my leaf-endrifted hovel,
Melting snow that I won’t shovel.
Climate change is not my fault
So surely I deserve to halt
My efforts to clean up the mess
The climate causes, don’t I? Yes!
Besides, those are my neighbors’ trees,
And do I own those snow clouds? Please.
If it’s not mine, it’s staying put.
Oh, crap. There’s dog doo on my foot.


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