Green pointed elves fluttering in the wind along my street.
Did I hear a whispered laugh? Why did they leave their mother
tree if they are still green?
"Do the old ones flutter. too?" Asks my daughter in
bewilderment. Sometimes she finds it hard to have a joking,
dancing, playful mother. Mothers aren't supposed to be fun.
That's not what they teach in school.
"Do the old ones flutter, too?" I ask, a little anxiously, as
I watch golden age waltzing slowly towards the ground.
I pick up a green one, a yellow one and a beige. The green
leaf is still soft. The yellow is scratchy. The green leaf
has a fresh smell. The yellow smells like spice. I hardly
dare touch the beige leaf as it brittles away between my
fingers.
I am the yellow leaf, my daughter is the green leaf and my
mother, the beige.
Thoughtless creatures, why did you leave your tree? They left
because it is in the nature of leaves to leave. And it is in
the nature of the tree to shed her leaves and her fruit to
welcome winter alone.
But why mourn? Look, they are dancing...
