Leaves

Leaves didn't float to earth in an autumnal freefall, or were eaten by caterpillars, or whacked with a hatchet. Young leaves hit the deck in pale green tenderness because the sky threw a tantrum. In the after-winter hour, the sky was jealous of everything it looked upon. Atmosphere must never be ignored. Clouds tossed aside their fluffy likeability and let loose flame and frost; a mixture that made heaven scream in agony. All the new growth got pelted and drowned. The canopy became carpet, and the sun trickled over unstable April.