Crisp landed with a soft thud on the grass under the big old maple tree. The festival buzzed all around him, and he thought it was rather dull.
Boots stomped on the path. Laughter rang from the dance floor. Red leaves covered everything.
Then a tiny kid in a yellow raincoat crawled across the grass and spotted Crisp.
Tiny fingers gently plucked Crisp from the ground and lifted him up toward the twinkling lights.
Crisp was tucked behind the kid's ear, right next to the fluffy yellow beanie. He could see the whole festival from up high.
"Oh," Crisp thought, "this actually isn't so bad." The kid trotted past steaming cups of hot cocoa.
A street musician played a bright trumpet nearby. The kid's hand reached up once to steady Crisp.
Then a gust of wind tugged at Crisp's edges. The kid's hand reached up again, and Crisp held on tight.
Crisp laughed with every bump and turn. The festival was alive with music and light and movement.
Crisp settled into a comfortable angle behind the ear and watched the festival glow all around him.
Lights reflected in a puddle. The maple tree still stood tall. The kid swayed to the music with a little smile.
Crisp wasn't just a fallen leaf anymore. He was part of the fun.