The wind rustles the leaves, a soft rumble echoing in the trees as I see each falling leaf dance to the ground. They told us the leaves would change earlier this year. They told us they knew when they would turn. They said it was unusual of them to wait this long.
I do not find it unusual at all. I look out and see the trees at peace, swaying in the wind, listening not to them but to the gentle of voice of something greater.
They were wrong.
The trees are unconcerned with what they say. The trees respond to the one who let the leaves grow in the first place. The one who lets those dying leaves produce brilliant color as they fall. The one who promised the trees that they would grow beautiful things again. That the blooms would come, that the winter would not kill them. The trees are unconcerned with what they say. They know that the timing is always right when you are listening to the a voice of truth.
The trees know there is no fear in letting go when they are rooted in place, taken care of by a beautiful and powerful Creator. They know there is beauty in things that pass away.