Leaves' perspective

We're dying. All of us, from every branch that grows from our tree-life-source – we're dying. Already many of those around me have turned a sickly yellow, the green life that has been ours for as long as I can remember now slipping away with the icy wind that flogs our branches. Some now even burn red, clinging to the tree in the last agonies of death. Everyone says this is the way it's supposed to be, natural like the movement of the earth and the breathing of the air. It happens every three seasons, it always has. But it doesn't seem right, somehow, that we who have thrived and given oxygen, life, to the earth, are sentenced to death. Our lives, cut off so suddenly – and only because of a season's change. Why does this happen?

What can we do?