I find them everywhere. Even in the most concrete, urban places somehow a stray leaf will have blown my way, giving imperfect balance to my day.
As foliage, green, they are a part of the tree; the garden; the woodland; the forest. Fallen, on the ground, they are mementos of what was. The autumn makes this passage of time, the falling becomes a spectacle. The abundance of leaves is an accepted beauty, a time to pause and appreciate nature. Rarely the singularity of a leaf is considered and what the series of events that may have brought it into your possession. The wind and the movements of the earth have delivered it too your feet. Here in my hand I can consider it as a moment in time before it is lost and I move on.
Fallen, from what was
Veins cling, no imprint.
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