The leaves turned from green, to orange and then yellow, before falling down to the ground. As they crunched and rustled beneath his feet, he lamented to his five-year-old, “Son, life is pretty much like these leaves, changing colors every season.”
“So, will I fall and get crushed too?”
“Yes, but you have to find the right tree that lets you stay the longest, and when you fall, it’s not the end. You will bloom again when the right season sets in again.”
***
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A Rustic Mind 
2 thoughts on “Rustle”