It’s funny how the leaves twinkle while they dance in the wind. All fresh and green chained to their branches keeping them alive. But after a season of nourishing that old tree, they fall away. Not completely discarded, for eventually they decay and feed another generation. I suppose we’re kinda like that, holding on to the leaves knowing not to let go. Till the time is right and they eventually nourish others.
Lisa hangs the first of our daughter’s clothes out to dry. Some may say we soil her, but there are trade-offs like using her shower or her taking me to the hospital. But sitting here in the backyard I see the fig leaves dancing above me. I hear birds singing in the distance, and catch the slightest hint of petunias on the wind. Still I find myself feeling a little weak. But that’s just the order of things where the vigor of youth gives way to fall-like serenity of chasing shade.