Singing opera in the park

NaPoWriMo April 10

Today on our dog walk
up the green mile
I noticed a single red leaf
on a sea of spring grass.
Above, the London plane trees
were all still bare, 
scribing their morning
songs against a concrete
sky. No leaves left over
from that crazy autumn
with its howling 
and sorrow. This leaf - 
a fighter then, holding fast
to its bough long past
the time when it needed to let go
curling against the nook and bark
of home while all its siblings
hurtled away on the winds.
Still here it might have hummed today
before being plucked suddenly
by a starling or bushtit and dropped
afterall to the earth of a new world.
I picked it up of course
and complimented its brilliance
its youthful appearance
its courage and resilience
then I reached up 
and tucked it behind a piece of brown
wood on the mother trunk
and gave it a pat. Let's go home
I murmured to the little dog
and as we walked back down the hill
I could smell the magnolias
singing opera in the park.