[CHAPTER] 9
The leaves were falling from the big oak tree at the edge of he meadow. They were falling from all the trees. One of the branches of the oak was much higher up than the others and it stretched a long way out over the meadow. At its tip there sat two leaves together.
“Things ain’t like they they used to be,” said one of the leaves.
“They ain’t,” the other answered. “There were so many of us last night who ... we’re just about the only ones left here on this branch.”
“You never know who it’s goin to ‘appen to next,” said the first. “Even when it was nice and warm and the sunshine gave you some heat you get a storm or a cloudburst sometimes, and lots of us got torn off then, even them that were still young. You never know who it’s goin to ‘appen to next.”
“You don’t get much sunshine these days,” the second leaf sighed, “and even when the sun does shine there’s no strength to it. You’ve got to get your strength from somewhere else.”
“Do you think it’s true,” pondered the first, “is it true that other leaves will come along and take our place once we’ve gone, and then another lot, and then another lot ...?”
“Course it’s true,” whispered the second, “only, we can’t work out how ... it’s above what we can understand, that is.”
“It’d make you really sad, and all,” the first added.
They remained silent for a while. Then the first said quietly to himself, “What do you have to go away for, anyway?”