Raking
Shut windows.
Shut out sound.
Let the trade winds cease.
Let cease the clack of the palms
for they clatter like rain of October.
Shut out the push of the broom
of the neighbor's yard boy
sweeping up leaves
and rubbish of white plumeria.
Let a silence arrive
in separate flakes of blue
by billions spilling.
Let the scraping stop
of the bamboo rake
on the driveway.
Tell the yard boy
stop
that raking.