A leaf is cartwheeling up the path. It clatters like one of the bright wooden devices my favourite primary school teacher would pull out of a basket and call a musical instrument. It is making a travelling song.
This leaf, it's been in the sky, and now it moves along paths and grasses, luminous and dirt-specked, waiting until the wind is done with it, and the light gone off it, so it can begin the long disintegration back into the belly of the earth.
And now it's coming down the path again - going nowhere really, just around and about as the breezes play - but making a journey of Life, regardless.
I guess we could all say the same.