It takes years for babies to develop the trust inherent in dry autumn leaves hurling themselves from the top of each heavy elm, oak, maple, burning ash. Each step is falling, for babies, lifting a foot and watching the ground, watching in case it suddenly disappears. The sudden disappearance of the earth does not concern leaves, who throw themselves spinning toward the ground. Each moment in autumn, another leaf banks on that trust, and falls. The earth has caught the leaves for years, and babies. Having finally learned to trust the earth, I throw myself often, into life -- caught in my spinning, sadness, melancholy, autumn strikes my chest. It has caught me this year but next year, maybe, I'll throw myself and be spinning the earth disappeared below me, no autumn come to relieve me and you gone.
4 November 1999