She has walked into the middle of a dance. Leaves pirouette, tumble, twirl, glide… …in silent jubilation to the ground where they shimmy… a tap dance, a chorus line… …a marvel. An invitation.
With a not-so-gentle shove, the guide sets her in motion. As Emma’s feet leave terra firma, she whispers a prayer to whatever angels, gods, goddesses might be listening before offering a shriek to those same heavenly ears. As soon as she realizes that this really is happening, and she really isn’t going to fall, Emma’s
“Keep your eyes open,” she said. “You can always find love. It just depends on how you look.”
tossing leaves like golden coins through the air.
The bones of the trees to the east are dressed now in frilly green organza. They make a good show, especially when the leaves rustle like taffeta.