That single leaf

looks as if it has some grey in it's green

because the clouds in the sky are obscuring the sun

overcast days polish the sun white

and the dusty leaf hangs

looking like it will last

it would be cool to the touch

and bitter on the tongue

it's transpiration

those sweaty lungs

there are a thousand

a few bunches orange

a few brown still hanging from the branches

there are four thousand fallen

crunchy like baked chips

breathing no more

leaves number 997, 998, 999

hang from branch number 8

during the 4th hour of a day in the second millennium of man

a dark night spins dreams simultaneously

and a single dream leaf contains a record of eternity past

like an old friend who suddenly knows magic

and reads shakespeare

leaf 998 is a streak of ink

on the pages of life

like a glorious ray of sunshine

peeking it's head

into the future, heaven

like slipping between the curtains of the present

breathing for tree 700,237,112