The leaves were on the tail end of the death process. Those that had fallen lie en masse, and as a car brushed by their place of rest, they came to life and chased it like dogs. Something about the morning air said that death holds no wieght -- even in winter. The breath of life seemed to rush into me; breathing was like drinking. I looked to the side, and light shown through the gate to paradise, and the extra color it produced was evidence that rebirth is a daily event.
2 comments:
Wow, I wish I could be as eloquent as you. I look at the leaves and just think "those look pretty." That's it. Go you.
wow! I can't believe you wrote that! That sounds like something I would study in English class!
-Chantelle
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