
Leaves half dead brown half living green dappled with the gold of hope, sparkling, dangle from the tree as if life clutched within holds a secret on this wonderful warm winter afternoon— masquerading as a spring day-- joyous—these leaves reflecting light like crystals of a fancy chandelier-- yet the leaves, fragile as they are, will fall upon the forest floor with tomorrow’s cold winds which they cannot withstand and my heart, like the leaves— not green enough to withstand assaulting winter but today, today— chooses to clutch at the hope in this masquerade of spring.