i heard them before i saw them . . .

instantly I was transported back to those long lovely Indian summer days of the 50's, dressed in flannel lined blue jeans rolled at the bottom, soft plaid peaking out, purchased big enough, if we were lucky, to last two seasons . . . scuffed up red Keds with those big rubber toes that I still managed to tear through in nothing flat and just a stretched out hand-me-down sweat shirt over an old Carter's size 5 short sleeved undershirt . . . bobbing into and out of the woods gathering prizes, a newt on a good day or a crayfish hidden under a stone in the brook that ran behind the house . . . sometimes it was seed pods I stuffed in a mason jar . . but coming home, if I was lucky, I would hear them, that dry brittle scutter of faded leaves dancing in a circle, caught by the wind, rattling it's tuneless song embedded in my heart with the sheer joy of it. I would stand and watch them spin hoping they would stay forever and sometimes, not being able to help myself, I would join in the dance, arms out wide, spinning in the sun. But they never lasted long, just as quickly as they started, they stopped and lay as forgotten summer shade. I loved those dimly colored leaves and their dance.

So today in the vast parking lot of Publix, my head jerked up from packing the car when I heard the first rasping notes of the dance and the old familar tune, tucked away for so long in a pocket of my heart. For just a moment, as I watched, I wanted to dance with them once more.