We think leaves fall when we turn the calendar page to Autumn months.
Piles of red, gold and orange land beneath trees that grow increasingly barren until one day they are truly naked.
But leaves begin to fall as early as July-hardly noticed because they drift down lonely, one by one.
No one is looking for them then.
And green grass grows tall to hide them.
We think people live to the fullness of years. They begin in spring and pass through all the seasons before the cold winter claims them.
But some survive only one season, or two–never enjoying the fruitful harvest of the latter years the younger years of hard work are meant to produce.
Unlike early falling leaves, early deaths are perceived and acknowledged.
Shocking and unexpected, people gather round to discuss the tragedy, the sorrow and the lost future of one who dies young.
But then they go away-caught up in the seasons of their own lives.
And the green grass grows tall to hide the ones who left too soon.
No one is looking for them anymore.
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