Skull of Autumn

The gap beneath the front door gave way to an escape into the crisp morning air! Down on the cold concrete step sat a brittle sycamore leaf, chewed full of jagged insect holes until it resembled a hollow, shrieking skull. Deliciously grim. I propped it upright against a chipped terracotta pot and gave the spine a firm flick. It spun on its stem with a sharp, dry rasp, dancing like little paper bones across the grit. A magnificent audience for my first outdoor performance.