The leaves fall. Green and yellowed. They fall together, floating left and right. The yellow is no different from the green.
Separated by branches, not by origin. The green looks down on the yellow, believing the branches that separate them.
There is no wind. The leaves fall by choice, by will, and a desire to land at the good spot. Aiming, looking down, pushing their descent to one side or other, trying to maneuver their way to their goal. Vindictive and vengeful leaves often cross their paths. They hurl themselves at the other, trying to distort their intended plight. Sometimes they fail, other times they change the other leaf's colour.
It is said, when a leaf is broken, broken from the inside, screaming and wailing, it's soul is torn, eternally in torment, so that the body of the leaf is on autopilot.
When a vindictive leaf hits the other and ends it's purpose, it's being, the leaf changes its colour. Green to yellow. Yellow to brown. Brown to ash. White to black.
Yet many survive the onslaught. Many make their way down. Some land to their perfect stop. Some close. Others, far and away, confused, tainted.
One such leaf, green and hungry, determined and naive, went forth to achieve its purpose. It looked down, found a spot it liked, mentally calculated if it could naturally reach it, and took the plunge by pushing itself out the root that was its link to the mighty tree.
Many brushed past. Endeavoring their own. Many hit and changed the reality. The leaf, determined to reach to its destination, maneuvered itself back to track. Back to purpose. Back to reality.
The eye of the wind blinked. Openes it's eyes from its needed slumber. Yawned. Smiled.
And said hello, it's been a while.
