It sat and watched. Barked once more. Then, it flew away, somewhere deeper into the stand. I saw it land on another branch but couldn’t see the silhouette any longer. The morning light was still too new, too dim, too low on the horizon. Bark.
Leaf litter is natural. Yet somehow, we’ve come to understand leaves as the enemy of fall, litter to our parks, campuses and home yards. We seem to tolerate leaf litter on our lawns less than plastic litter in our waterways. We certainly expend more energy picking up the former than the latter.
