My life like leaves.

Leaves blow in a circle in the first few months of the fall. They are the memories of the trees. Their forms remember the first budding in the spring. The full growth in the heat of the summer. The cool breezes that preceded their eventual loosening before they fell.

I have left many words on the internet since my first words appeared here in the 80s. I am attempting to gather some of them here. Feel free to browse, and see the beautiful colors of the leaves that have made up my life.


Rosalyn Hunter