When the fall comes
As I walked, the ice cracked under my feet. There was snow everywhere, and the pathways were all frozen. The wind was blowing, and I struggled to keep my scarf intact. The chill was numbing me, and my reassuring mind kept telling me that I was almost there.
As I passed by the buildings, I noticed it. It was a dry earth colored leaf that stood out, like it had grown on snow and not on soil, amazingly straight. I wondered how it survived. All the leaves, I knew, had long fallen out, and the descent of the flakes had caressingly buried each one of them. And yet this leaf, different from the rest, did not seem to have succumbed.
I wondered about me. When the fall comes, under the snow, I don’t want to be.
As I passed by the buildings, I noticed it. It was a dry earth colored leaf that stood out, like it had grown on snow and not on soil, amazingly straight. I wondered how it survived. All the leaves, I knew, had long fallen out, and the descent of the flakes had caressingly buried each one of them. And yet this leaf, different from the rest, did not seem to have succumbed.
I wondered about me. When the fall comes, under the snow, I don’t want to be.
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