A dry, brown oak leaf swirls in an eddy, little less than three feet wide, in front of the entrance to my home. It scrapes, crackling against the cement. Round and around it goes, dancing in rhythm to the wind chime hanging nearby.
A dry, brown oak leaf swirls in an eddy, little less than three feet wide, in front of the entrance to my home. It scrapes, crackling against the cement. Round and around it goes, dancing in rhythm to the wind chime hanging nearby.