I Thought I Saw A Leaf

In the silver light of early evening, a golden leaf fluttered to the ground from the canopy above. I caught its movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turned my head to look. It was no leaf, but a Mockingbird. I looked at it, and it looked back at me as it pecked around in the damp, just-watered ground about the base of a Monterey Oak.

I had some purpose in telling you this when I filed these words away, but now that early evening has gone and night has come, now that the silver light has yielded to blackness, I cannot for the life of me remember what my point was.

So let's just leave it like this: I thought I saw a yellow leaf but it was a bird. And that is all.

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