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The Leaves are Happy — An Ode to Autumn
I like to imagine that the leaves are happy.
After spending years among the sap and bark, I find myself imagining that they are happy to finally be a leaf and to see the whole world from the safety of their spot on their branch of their tree.
A leaf’s purpose, in this imaginary world I find myself drawn to, is simply to live the life of a leaf to the best of their little leaf ability.
To brave the extreme weather, to comfort lost kites, to offer visitors hospitality, shelter, and comfort. There is no good way or bad way to be a leaf. The experience of being a leaf is all the reward that’s needed.
I like to think that the leaves whisper about autumn in hushed tones throughout the year. No fear, simply reverence and awe.
“Did you hear how this all ends?” one asks.
“Oh yes, I can’t wait to experience it for myself,” the others reply.
I wonder which leaves plan their spiral descent and if others hope for the wind or storm to take control. In this beautiful ceremony, which is, of course, their right as a leaf, how much control do they have? How much control do they want?
I like to imagine the falling as the last bit of life itself, contrary to what scientists want us to believe. They hear their little…
