Seeing these leaves reminded me of the last two lines in this poem I wrote several years ago:

I Am Nature
I am the chickadee's sweet song,
The eagle's awesome flight.
I am the doe's soft eyes,
The yearling's velvety spikes.
I am the well-fed squirrel,
Scurrying through the trees.

I am the cool, crisp breeze,
The water's clean, fresh scent.
I am the maple's sweet sap,
The birch's paper-white bark.
I am the dry, rustling leaves,
Still clinging to winter's branches.