I was passing by the park in the center of my little hometown this morning and saw an elderly man dapperly dressed in dark gray pants, a rich brown colored jacket, a dark yellow shirt, a red tie, and red socks. His hair was silver, and his hands and face were a caramel brown.

The gentleman was looking up at the sky it seemed, but then I realized he was fixated on one of the first brown, yellow and red autumn leaves dutifully and gracefully falling to earth.

When the leaf landed, the gentleman rose, gingerly walked over and picked it up. He studied it for a full minute then raised it up to the tree it had fallen from in a gesture, I interpreted as thanks, kissed it and took it back with him to his bench. He eased himself back down on the bench and admired the leaf another minute or so before slipping it into his inside jacket pocket. He seemed very pleased as though he had been given a thought that he would treasure the rest of the day. He picked up his newspaper and settled into, what I assumed, was the rest of his morning ritual. I thought of my own morning ritual and smiled.