A tree branch was lying on the ground, next to the sidewalk, like it had been deliberately cut down. The leaves weren’t yet dead on the fallen branch.
The hearts of the leaves were still green while the edges had turned brown. A few hours before, strong thunderstorms fell in thick sheets of white water that I couldn’t see through when I looked out the window.
I had never seen fallen leaves in the process of still dying.
Fallen leaves, dying, wounded, cut off.