At first light the deer beside the square stood still long enough for the maple to notice them. Each animal greeted a low branch, nodded to the nearest bench, and hung exactly one leaf on a tiny antler peg, as if autumn had opened a cloakroom.
We asked at the kiosk by the path. The vendor said people used to hurry across the lawn. Now they wait, because a leaf that has been hung properly does not rustle until it is ready. The park keeper pinned a note to the fence: please do not take a coat that is still choosing its hook.
The next morning a young deer returned to the same bench, collected yesterday’s leaf, and hung a fresher one a little higher, as if the first attempt had only been a rehearsal.