Cycle of a leaf

 I'm sitting on the porch, sipping apple cider and watching autumn-colored leaves float to the ground in a kind of dance, with an encore performance repeated every year. I watch as they twirl and float with no particular rhyme or reason, just a leaf in flight ending with a soft landing on the ground from which its mother tree stands, letting go of her children as all mothers must do. Soon the tree, with bare branches, will go to sleep, knowing springtime will awaken them with tiny buds she must nourish until they too float away on their own as the cycle repeats itself, and I witness the performance from my porch, sipping apple cider.

Mike  2026