I was sitting out on my back deck this morning and noticed this little guy hanging on from the top branch of the tree.

Brave little leaf.

Was little leaf holding on precariously or with brut strength? With rugged determination or last moment panic? Most of  little leaf’s associates had long departed for lawns and trenches and woods near and far. What was little leaf hanging on for?

Brave little leaf.

Little leaf had endured much:  blazing sun, pounding rain, thunderstorms and whipping winds. Little leaf survived birds and bugs and still hung proud and flexible in the morning sunshine.

Would little leaf hold on long enough to endure snowy winter? Mushy spring?

Brave little leaf.

Would little leaf hang on until the next generation of leaves forced leaf off the branch and into the twilight of existence? Or will the coming-of-age leaves on the branch protect and keep the leaf safe an additional season or two?

As I watched little leaf twinkle and blow in the morning breeze, I realized the leaf was going to do what we all do. Hang around until we cannot hang around any more.

That’s the best any of us can do.