Autumn thoughts for mid-summer

We each took a rake to a corner of our garden
And dragged the dead leaves, pulling grass tugging root,
Which made Earth flinch.
Then plunged our hands into the separate piles, clammy inside but warmer than the air's bite.
And laughed as our fingers grazed deep and nabbed broad leaves almost whole.
"These I will share!" Each laugh from a corner an instigation to the other.
And we held leaves for review by the other.
In the leaves and detritus we christened meaning and belonging,
Then left with dirty fingernails.