I am surrounded by leaves.
Leaf.
As dog and I walked out this morning, I looked at this leaf. Green, the size of my palm, a strong sort of leaf with a definite identity. Then, I looked at the surrounding leaves.
Each one growing in a different way, of a different size, on the one tree. All these leaves are green, but there is an old green, a new green and a green that’s in between.
I look up. That leaf, is a leaf of length, as long as my forearm, elbow to wrist. One amongst a circular bunch of leaves growing upwards, pointing to the sky, with a precision about their demeanour.
Guards?
Scouts?
All of them looking like each other, of matching length, colour and that sense of attention.
I look down as I walk, at a bush that is hip high. I see bright, fresh, rolls and curls of green. This leaf is a birthday frock, a child feeling pretty. (Does anyone still wear frocks?) All the leaves that I see on this bush are obviously, immediately, unique.
Curled. Rolled. Unfurling. Again, each a different shape and size. I am beautiful. I am free. The breeze knows. This windblown me.
Brown leaf. In the grass. Yellow leaf, one amongst many in a pile of the fallen.
Feathery leaves, attached to a slim outbranch.
Dog does her squirrel dash. There is a flurry amongst those fallen leaves. This leaf knows purpose as the squirrel has shot across it into the tree. Leaf and squirrel share this story.
That leaf knows purpose as dog scrambles after squirrel. It is a knowing leaf. It has running dog experience.
Leaf. In a bottle. On a plant.
You are a domesticated leaf.
You are a pet leaf.
A board room and a business leaf.
Not for you the squirrel. (Do you know squirrel? Are there squirrel memories in your genes?)
Leaf in a bottle.
Would you like to be in the wild outdoors? For a while?
(From my Leaf and Lighthouse series of posts.)
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