The spring of dry leaves



I found a dry leaf in the middle of the road, but it wasn't autumn. I took it in my hands, looked at the trees and all had their leaves green, alive, full of breath. However, the leaf in my hands was dry in the middle of spring. What happened to it? - I wondered. I thought that the strong wind had made it fall and that the sun of the day had withered it, but that was not the case. I know this because that same spring afternoon I sat next to the trees in the park. Another leaf, in a low, very low voice, as low as the voice of a leaf can be, told me: "don't feel sad, this leaf comes from the trees of the north, it travelled a long distance to get here". It was dry, it was true, but it had already lived its adventure, it had died far from its beginning, closer to life, beyond what many leaves can dream of in their autumn; that it arrives and drops them sadly at the feet of a bare tree.
F. JaBieR

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