A Rumor

There is a rumor of winter spreading among the trees. Most of them shake it off, scattering a few leaves, while a bold few have put on an entire outfit of orange or yellow. Still others show tentative streaks of red or brown, just in case. The huge maple in my front yard seems quite composed from the street, but my lawn is covered with a panic of colored leaves. The rumor has taken hold. It will only grow stronger. Perhaps winter is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophesy.