The Leaves
This morning as I lounged quite late in bed, the maple leaves were laughing outside o'er my head. One had the nose and gossip face of some old hag; another with a jester's cap was nodding to the silly nag. So happy were the leaves in their lifelong known way, I couldn't help but think that they must leave some day, and soon that day approaches with December's wind, and soon the laughing ceases; they'll be cut off then. How sad, I thought, to be a leaf, when every year, once quickly that old wind... Sign in to see full entry.