It is autumn now, and the leaves are falling from the trees.

There are a great number of trees near where I live, all varieties, sycamore, oak, cypress, mesquite, palm.

About 6 weeks ago the sycamore trunks began to dry up and thin sheets of bark began to peel off, falling on the ground.

The palm trees are shedding long coarse shafts of bark, long, dry, yellow, shriveled palm leaves lay silently on the sidewalk.

A seed pod fell near my foot the other day, just in time for my toe to kick it down the path as I took a step. I could feel it's tiny presence in the tips of my toes.

An oak leaf brushed my cheek on its graceful descent to the grassy floor not too long ago.

Occasionaly I see a pinecone near the path, I step on it, releasing the seeds back to the earth, feeling the structure and engineering though my shoe in the flat of my foot.

I pick up a long narrow seed pod that resembles a peapod, when I shake it I can hear the sounds of frozen life inside.

As I walk across campus, the cool wind tickles those tiny hairs inside my ear. I wish to pull my coat closer, but alternate to embrace my setting.

Everywhere I go, there are piles of dried leaves of every color. All varieties, all colors, in one pile, or in a long thin strip against an embankment, gathered neatly by the wind. I enjoy walking on autumn leaves. The sounds are so familliar, and yet so...pleasing. It is like a beautiful song heard a thousand times, and then you stop to listen to the words. I can feel the viens of the leaves cracking under my weight, the meat of the leaf bending gently. Their crackling tickles the flats of my feet - even through the thick soles of my shoes.

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