Leaves Begin to Shudder

A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;

with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter.

The passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads to mutter:

“Let’s pray for rains to cleanse the lanes, to rid the road of clutter.”         

A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.