Sense Sonnet - Tickler

 Beleaves?

Mom has suggested that I rake

The fallen leaves in the backyard.

In return she promised to make

Me some apple cider, not hard,

All steamy hot that surely will,

With allspice and cinnamon warm

My insides from outside brisk and chill.

Reward for choice for me's the charm.

So out to the backyard I go,

Motivated with rake in hand.

Bunches and bunches of leaves show,

Something I do not understand.

All of these leaves does baffle me.

How'd they here with one pine tree?