One red leaf. Hanging moss. Blue sky with pre-storm clouds wafting over lake water flecked with gold light. Breeze. Can I hear it? Moving the hanging moss ever so gently. Chaos inside. Calm out here. One red leaf. Certainly not a sign of autumn.

Oh. More red leaves. Eyes adjust and sift through the lush green shimmering foliage. Many red leaves. But not enough to notice the true number. Well. Maybe. Twelve that sing out one after the other. More on the ground amongst the damp, brown bark mulch.

A tiny lizard scurries next to one of them. Lizard and one red leaf.

Voices in the distance. Jet plane roaring across the Florida atmosphere. Heat so kind it blankets everything into a summer slumber.

A few minutes left to sit and gaze. With no agenda except to make it to the next breath.

There it is.

A tiny peeping bird next to the one red leaf.