My mother ordered me again, and again, to sweep it clean.
All that blooms must fall. I learned this not from the Tao,
but from high school biology.
Oh, the contradictions of having a broom and not a dustpan!
I swept the leaves down, down through the iron grille
and let the dead rain over the Wong family's patio.
And it was Achilles Wong who completed the task.
We called her:
The-one-who-cleared-away-another-family's-autumn.
She blossomed, tall, benevolent, notwithstanding.
That is the entire poem.(A NY Poetry in Motion Poem)
http://www.poetrysociety.org/psa/poetry/poetry_in_motion/atlas/newyork/autumn_leaves/