Nature

In a quiet, redwood-scented suburban landscape, a small maple tree stands, struggling. The redwoods, here long before the houses, stand tall and firm, unconcerned by the breeze. 

The birds, here long before the houses, mistake the windows for air, and lay stunned on the threshold. 

Orange termites, their wings heart-shaped when at rest, will quietly dine on the house and the bits of trees cast down from above, and people will replant and rebuild. 

The maple does not belong here, but adds a heartbreaking flash of visual impact as it casts off its party dress for winter. A lone leaf dances in the breeze, tethered to the branch by a cobweb. It wants to join its family in the leaf litter below but can't seem to let go. 

It will continue its performance, the struggling, the figure eights, battering itself against a branch until nature, mercifully, breaks it free.