Out said the window, over the fields of gold, through the forest so deep, and up on a high hill, stood a great old oak towering over the forest below. Its leaves were red, orange, and shades of yellow. It was a home for squirrels and birds with their young, strong and tough to the seasons but wary and safe to the creatures.
In springtime, its leaves would dance in the bris as flowers bloom on the ground birds sing as their eggs hatch, and squirrels appear from homes in the old oak. Summer arrives in full swing and birds leave their childhood nests in the forest below. The leaves on the tree are in shades of green, the sun blazes high in the sky, and a fox lingers under the tree below.
Autumn blows in and the leaves are back to their red, orange, and shades of yellow, that is until winter, a harsh wind blows through, and at the top of the tree a leaf of red is picked off and gone in the wind. Higher and higher it goes into the orange Autumn sky and down below stood its old oak home.
Through the forest, over the mountains and fields of gold, it goes. Where will it go? Where will it fall? Could it be that leaf that passes by your home, or is it somewhere else in the world riding the wind where will the wind take the leaf?
How knows?
YOU ARE READING
A thought in the wind
No FicciónA book comprised of many stories and thoughts I wonder why? What ifs? How deep can we go into the world of (I wonder ?) Can we imagine ourselves as something else? Can we put ourselves in that thing or one place? Can we see with our own eyes? (A/n:...
