are you jealous of your brother wind
who swirls and dances with the fallen leaves
while you travel from porch to porch
methodically organizing death into neat piles?
does it bother you to see that scoundrel
undo all your hard work
in one carefree gust
do you feel powerless
dependent on the laborer who straps you to their side or back
while sister wind flows freely at a whim
do you suffer to watch your master
mindlessly point you in any direction
with no apparent forethought
at times, stripping living plants of their leaves
are you thrilled by the repetition
by the the rounds you make
to the same houses
week after week
do you like my porch
i hope not
please stop coming