"All come from dust, and to dust all return."
Most of the color is gone from the autumn leaves. They speckle the ground with infinite shapes of brown as another winter approaches.
Others cling to their trees, as if waiting for another stiff breeze or cold front to sweep in and bare more branches. Those leaves still with some yellow and red and green in them stand out even more before they too turn brown.
It's still and quiet early Thanksgiving Day, skimming white clouds muting the sunlight and the shadows, almost as if the human world is catching its breath and noticing what is important.
The leaves are a kaleidoscope of memories and blessings... infinite, unique and unending relics of lives lived, melting into the ground from when they came.
On a day of giving thanks, for uncounted blessings, surely, the lesson of the leaves is to enjoy today, and be thankful for the present. I'm reminded of the words of The Preacher, Solomon, in Ecclesiastes:
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.