this sacred life

it is cold here.  i pull my wrap closer around me.   thoughtlessly staring out the window before me.  watching  leaves slipping  away from summer. and i wonder, what would i do today, if  somehow i knew it would be my last?  in a flash i have no ambition, no motivation at all, except to watch the leaves float upon a thing unseen, gently to the ground.  every leaf dancing a different dance.  some they tumble, some that spin, some that linger longer still.