They are the last of their kind, the Cold Leaves. In a world of empty branches, they are all that remains of colourful seasons past.
To me, a leaf hanging on a branch in February is a symbol of resilience. I wonder how something so delicate can withstand the wind, the rain and the snow for such a long time.
Though they may not retain their original brilliance and beauty, the Cold Leaves refuse to be swept away. They find ways to remain a part of the landscape.
I know that, with the onset of spring, new growth will push the old out. I just wanted to take a minute, to acknowledge that small things can stand tall and stand alone.