22 Dec 14
A single tan pin oak leaf hangs on the tree. It twists and turns in the sun, shivers in the chilly breeze, the rain, and has weathered two heavy snow storms. I wonder, if like me, it hesitates to let go of the known, its home and stability. Mourning doves, blue jays, finches and gray squirrels flit past, keep it company nearby, a part of yet distant, as disengaged as most human society.
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