I could see the others turning shades of brown and yellow. Their lush green gradually being replaced by a splendid crimson and chrome. It had arrived.
Autumns cold brush had painted the entire garden into warm colors of death. Some trees were still speckled with green leaves, I noticed; but by tomorrow, every treetop will be ablaze in blinding flames of auburn.
Below me was a layer of dead leaves , carpeting the recently raked lawn. My siblings lay ominously far beneath me. I still had tiny dots of green, I noticed. A few hours maybe, and I’ll be amongst my lost friends. I too will fall.
The sadistic fall wind snaked through the tree branches. The same branches which once boasted lush leaves and flowers. Just a few months ago, they were the kaleidoscope of nature’s palette, now all that could be seen everywhere, was the coulour of blood when it has run stale.
She came for my tree next, blowing off any weak leaves that came in her way. It was my time now. Because everything that soars must fall.
The wind yanked at my stalk. I resisted instinctively. Death surrounded me. I held on tighter. Mother nature was determined. I want to live. Your time is up. Gravity sided up with them. My branch let go.
And so I returned to where I had risen from. My cradle now serving as my grave.