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From the first moments as fragile buds,
the leaves heard the whispered story
of the day
they would come


to rest upon the ground, of which they knew nothing.

Some caught murmurs of adventure, of
the promise of a new life
amidst the grass, a different green from any they had ever known

Others detected a sense of the fear
of falling through the sky
only to turn brittle and brown

(from luscious green to vibrant reds and golds to disintegrating, how could it be?)

What they all knew
was the inevitability
of the tumble

What they were certain of
was the uncertainty
as to when, or how, or why

The leaves hung onto their branches,
waving in the wind,
taking in the magnificent sights from all around

And when they fell,
some went on to tell the acorns
of the promise that lived in the sky