The Little Yellow Leaf
It was autumn and in the hush of the forest a lone yellow leaf clung to the branch of a great Oak tree. “I’m not ready yet” thought the little yellow leaf as a ride of fiery leaves chased and swirled around the tree. Not yet, thought the little yellow leaf… as the afternoon sun beckoned and teased…not ready, thought the little yellow leaf as the apples grew musky, pumpkins heavy and flocks of geese took wing. Still not ready he thought as the other leaves gathered into great heaps, crackly dry where children played. A chill filled the air… and the sun sank slow. Not ready, thought the little yellow leaf as a heavy harvest moon bloomed amber in the starry sky. Not yet, not yet, not yet. Through the long night, snow flurried and the little leaf held fast to the great oak tree. Days passed by and still the little yellow leaf held tight, alone. He searched the bare, bare branches covered only with a shimmer of snow…alone. And then, then high up on an icy branch, a scarlet flash, one more leaf holding tight. You’re hear? Called the little yellow leaf. “I am” said the little scarlet leaf. “Like me” said the little yellow leaf. Neither spoke. Finally, “Will you?” Asked the little scarlet leaf. “I will” said the little yellow leaf. And one, two, three, they let go and soared. Into the waiting wind they danced, off and away and away and away…together.