Trees Shed Their Leaves In Which Season ((new)) -

A child ran through the grove, kicking up a swirl of crimson and amber. Her laugh scattered the leaves higher into the air, where for a moment they became a second canopy—a fleeting, upside-down autumn. Then they settled again, carpeting the earth in a patchwork of seasons past.

This was not death, I realized. It was trust. The trees were loosening their hold on everything they had made in summer—every broad leaf that had drunk the sun, every green promise—because they knew something we forget: that letting go is not a failure, but a preparation. The bare branches, stark against the gray, were not empty. They were resting. They were remembering how to be still. trees shed their leaves in which season

By dusk, the last leaves of a late-blooming cherry fluttered down like a final bow. The trees stood naked and unashamed, their skeletons etched against the fading light. I understood then: autumn’s true gift is not the color, but the courage to undress, to stand vulnerable before the coming cold, and to believe that spring will know the way back. A child ran through the grove, kicking up

I stood at the edge of the birch grove, collar turned against a sky the color of old pewter. The first leaves fell not with urgency, but with the slow deliberation of a letter slipped under a door. A single yellow coin spiraled past my cheek, landing on the damp moss without a sound. This was not death, I realized