Leaves
Memories from a Winter’s End Past.
Published in
1 min readMay 6, 2014
Today there were leaves hanging from a tree that I noticed for the first time. They were dead from a long hard winter. They should be dead. They should be gone somewhere. Someone should have raked them into a pile. Composting for the sake of a garden. Or decomposing in the crevasse where the street and curb meet. They should not be waiting for spring to reach it’s real beginning.
They will not grow again. They will not bud and transform. They will not see their former glory. They should have faded from green to gold to red to brown but instead are now this pale and lifeless color dangling. Waiting to be noticed.
