It fluttered down, silent. This red-gold messenger, this newly enlisted harbinger. I watched as it glided without words, recruiting others, spinning and tossed til they touched the tips of the grass below. “There is something,” thought I. “Something new.”

And so, I began to write. A change of season, a time for something new.

Because things come to me in visuals, because everything is connected, because often I see those connections I became Mrs Metaphor.

In this leaf, this sign of change, of death and rebirth, hope becomes real in the spring of the day.


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