Here you will find thePoemThe Old Men In The Leaf Smokeof poet Archibald MacLeish
The old men rake the yards for winter Burning the autumn-fallen leaves. They have no lives, the one or the other. The leaves are dead, the old men live Only a little, light as a leaf, Left to themselves of all their loves: Light in the head most often too. Raking the leaves, raking the lives, Raking life and leaf together, The old men smell of burning leaves But which is which they wonder &mdash whether Anyone tells the leaves and loves &mdash Anyone left, that is, who lives.
