Red leaves are like tendrils of hair to the trees. Wind whips their hair tendrils into mats at the tree’s base with the passing of summer to fall.
The leaves redness glows like a summer sun or as a hot branch on a bonfire in autumn burns, consumed by the fire but the red leaves remain.
Each red leaf falls like a boy tripping over his shoe strings to the grassy ground with joy. Alas, autumn is here harkening her greeting.