“As you plan to make a leaf pile, a work of childish creation, the brown leaf sits at the edge of your vision. You put it at the top. Quite strange, how sending it to its imminent toppling seems to be a nice gesture.”
Bouncing piles of leaves radiate riveting reds and yellows.
Orange sunlight seems a little less bright than the thousands of leaves around you.
With the cool wind tickling your neck, it feels like you could stay here forever,
prancing in the forest of your backyard, seeming so much bigger now that it’s full.
Strangely, a small brown leaf with crinkled edges sits in a small clearing as if on purpose.
You dismiss the event as the fun of the season continues to invade your mind.
As you plan to make a leaf pile, a work of childish creation, the brown leaf sits at the edge of your vision. You put it at the top. Quite strange, how sending it to its imminent toppling seems to be a nice gesture.
Unfortunately, as many have said, everything comes to an end.
As the brisk air sharpens, reds and yellows turn to dirty browns.
Standing outside, you try to cram in the last bit of fun on one of the sunnier mornings,
but nothing has the right color or quality, and your efforts turn into a depressing way to start the day.
Reluctantly helping along, you and your family put the leaves in bags, tossing everything away,
just reminding you further that this incredible season is coming to an end.
A process taking minutes stretches to hours in your mind
as each and every leaf becomes a tidbit of sadness building inside you.
You can almost feel the fall wind being sucked away by the same vacuum
that seemed to suck away the spirit of the season.
As your family finishes up, one leaf remains. A small brown leaf with crinkled edges.
As a crystal of white lands on it and melts on its surface, you know his time is over.