It is beginning to rain. The sky looks like a vast, thick layer of cotton wool – a grey blanket with glimpses of a grey sky underneath. Most trees are bare, or nearly so. Slowly, as night follows day, one by one, the leaves fall, swirling and twirling. It is notoriously hard to catch them as they fall; they seem to be going in one direction, but a small gust may push them off course. Some leaves still cling on to branches, unwilling, unsure, quivering in the wind. Their colours match the beauty of flowers, stained glass, glitter, and little spectrums made by crystals in the sunlight. But when they fall, they are trodden on, torn and caked with mud. Their colours are dulled, but beauty lies underneath. And the Earth will turn. As the sky sheds its grey cloak to reveal the azure underneath, and the breeze carries the fragrance of flowers, the leaves will return again, triumphant.
© Sohini Kumar