Tumbling little leaf

October 6, 2013

I follow a floating leaf as it comes into my view, and I follow it through streets, around corners, crossing the road, stopping momentarily in front of walls before getting caught in a gust and rushing upwards again. I follow that little leaf, yellowed from the seasons, as it continues to coast on the heavy winds that came with the start of autumn. It looks like an oak leaf but I really don’t know.

The cold October winds are a warning, a presence that will not be ignored. They come in from the sea and pass through a complex labyrinth of buildings to finally crash into me. My coat flaps in these winds while I follow the yellow leaf through the sky. I follow it across neighbourhoods now, walking further and further. The leaf rides the waves and tumbles and dances and sails. I pass through neighbourhoods at an increasing rate. Soon I will leave city bounds.

The wind is ceaseless and strong. It has been building up over the seas and lands and seas before finally crashing into a multitude of winds, gusts, whistles, creaks and howls. Few leaves now remain on the branches.

I follow my leaf as it rises higher and higher, to finally rise above the city. It continues into the forests and lands beyond. I follow it everywhere. Fields are ready for harvest or yet harvested. Farmers are preparing for a cold winter and birds gather whatever they can from the fields. The forest is a bright palette of variations of red, brown, gold, green, yellow, purple. Birds fly in and out, twittering loudly. The wind is less cold here, less unforgiving, though it is still an autumn wind, and it is still crashing and breaking and rolling.

The leaf is my guide as we enter new and unknown lands. It is impossible for me to tell which country I am in or how long I have been walking. The sun is low in the sky, illuminating from behind the trees, providing a warmth I yearn for. I am carried as the leaf into greater heights still, so far that fields and forests blend into a blanket of green and brown and yellow patterns. I fly over cities but cannot tell which is home. I see the sun set way over the horizon, and I am slowly moving into the night, tumbling little leaf.