Amber, the Last Leaf on the Maple Tree

On top of a gentle hill stood a tall maple tree, and on the very highest branch of that tree lived a leaf named Amber.

Amber had been born in the spring, as a tiny, curled-up bud. She had unfolded slowly in the warm sunshine, stretching out her five pointed tips like the fingers of a little green hand. All summer long, she had danced in the breeze with hundreds of other leaves. She had shaded the birds' nests from the hot sun. She had caught raindrops and let them slide down, plip, plop, onto the grass below.

Amber loved her life on the branch. She could see the whole valley from up there: the river shining like a ribbon, the red roofs of the village, the fields striped green and gold.

Then, one morning, the air felt different. It was crisp and cool, and it smelled of woodsmoke and apples.

Amber looked down at herself. Her green was turning yellow at the edges. Then, day by day, the yellow turned orange, and the orange turned a deep, glowing red, like the embers in a fireplace.

"Look at me!" Amber called to the leaf beside her. "I've changed color!"

"We all have," said the leaf beside her, whose name was Russet. He was gold and brown, with little freckles. "It's autumn. Soon it will be time to let go."

"Let go?" said Amber. "What do you mean?"

"In autumn, leaves let go of the branch," said Russet. "We float down to the ground. It's what leaves do."

Amber held on tighter. "Not me," she said. "I like it up here. I don't want to let go."

Every day, the wind blew a little harder. Every day, more leaves let go. Amber watched them twirl down through the air, spinning like dancers, red and orange and gold. Some of them called out "Wheee!" as they went.

One windy afternoon, Russet let go too. "Goodbye, Amber!" he called, floating away in lazy loops. "It's wonderful! You'll see!"

Amber held on with all her might.

Soon she was the only leaf left on the whole maple tree. The branches were bare and grey around her. She shivered in the cold wind and felt very lonely.

A little robin landed on the branch beside her. He had a round orange chest and bright, curious eyes.

"Hello, leaf," said the robin. "My name is Tuck. Why are you still up here? All your friends are down on the ground."

"I'm scared," Amber admitted in a small voice. "I don't know what happens when I let go. Up here, I know everything. Down there, everything is different."

Tuck tilted his head. "Different isn't always bad," he said. "When I was a little chick, I was scared to leave my nest. I thought the sky was too big. But when I finally flapped my wings and flew, I saw the whole world. It was the best thing I ever did."

Amber thought about this. The wind tugged at her stem.

"But what will I do down there?" she asked. "What use is a leaf on the ground?"

Tuck fluffed his feathers. "Look," he said, and pointed his beak toward the grass.

Amber looked. At the foot of the maple tree, all the fallen leaves lay together in a deep, soft, colorful pile. It looked like a patchwork quilt, red and orange and gold. Some children were jumping into the pile, laughing and throwing leaves into the air. Beneath the edges, a little beetle was crawling in to find a warm place to sleep.

"The leaves on the ground are a blanket," said Tuck. "They keep the tree's roots warm all winter. They give the little creatures a cozy place to sleep. And slowly, slowly, they turn into soft earth that feeds the tree. So in the spring, the tree can grow new leaves."

"So even when I'm on the ground," said Amber slowly, "I'm still helping the tree?"

"Even more than before," said Tuck.

Just then, a gentle gust of wind came sweeping up the hill. It was not rough or cold. It was soft, like a lullaby. It wrapped itself around Amber and tugged, very kindly.

Amber took a deep breath. And she let go.

At first, she dropped, and she gasped. But then the wind caught her, and she began to float. She twirled. She spun. She drifted in slow, wide circles, like a feather, like a dancer. Below her, the valley turned and turned. She saw the river and the rooftops and the fields, all from a brand-new angle.

"Wheee!" cried Amber. She couldn't help it.

Tuck flew alongside her, chirping happily.

Down, down, down she floated, until at last she landed softly on top of the great pile of leaves, right next to Russet.

"You did it!" said Russet. "Wasn't it wonderful?"

"It was," said Amber. "It was the most wonderful thing I've ever done."

That evening, the children went home for their supper. The sky turned purple, and the first stars came out. A little beetle named Bo crawled underneath Amber and curled up in the warm, dry darkness. "Thank you for the blanket," he mumbled sleepily.

"You're welcome," Amber whispered.

Snow came that winter. It covered the hill in white, soft and silent. Under the snow, Amber and Russet and all the other leaves kept the tree's roots warm and cozy. Bo the beetle slept soundly. And slowly, very slowly, the leaves began to melt into the dark, rich earth, just as Tuck had said.

Amber felt sleepy too. It was a peaceful, happy kind of sleepiness. She felt herself becoming part of the ground, part of the roots, part of the tree itself.

Then, one morning, the snow melted. The sun came out, warm and bright. The birds began to sing. And on the very highest branch of the maple tree, a tiny, curled-up bud began to open.

It stretched out five pointed tips, like the fingers of a little green hand. It looked out over the valley, at the river shining like a ribbon, and the red roofs of the village, and the fields turning green again.

Tuck landed on the branch beside it, with a twig in his beak for his new nest. He looked at the little new leaf and smiled a robin smile.

"Welcome back," he chirped.

And the little leaf, feeling the warm spring sun for the very first time, began to dance in the breeze.