The one red leaf, the last of its clan,

That dances as often as dance it can,

Hanging so light, and hanging so high,

On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

– Samuel Taylor Coleridge

– – –

With temperatures dipping into the 30s overnight, it’s simply a miracle that there are buds outside.

Signs of new life amid the barren feel of pending winter.

November buds.

One pink cluster on a plant full of brown petals.