Autumn Fall Spring May 2026

He buried the box at the tree’s roots, right where the crack in the trunk met the earth.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “One more time.” autumn fall spring

Not in words, of course. But a single leaf, high on the easternmost branch, would let go. Not fall— leap . It would twist down through the golden light, spinning like a dropped coin, until it landed in his lap. That was the signal. Autumn had begun. He buried the box at the tree’s roots,

But they didn’t see what he saw.

“You and me both, old friend,” Emory had said that morning, looking at his own gnarled hands. But a single leaf, high on the easternmost

He sat on the same bench in the same park every afternoon, a wool blanket over his knees even when the sun was kind. The bench faced a single, enormous maple tree—a sprawling thing with bark like cracked leather and branches that seemed to hold up the sky. Emory didn’t read or listen to music. He just watched the tree.

And the tree would answer.