The leaves turn from yellow to orange to red.  They are my early alert system.  Winter is
now a credible threat and I am preparing.

My neighbor cooks out, grills vegetables.  Ears of corn listen for the tell-tale sounds of sedition.

At the hiss of a whistle, children line up for dodge ball.  The winner receives immunity; losers must give names. 

Leaves fall from the maple tree – this is a terrorist act.  I keep moving, careful not to look anyone in the eye.

If a dog shits in the park, is that a matter for the Department of Homeland Security?  Do you know their number?

What Empire means to a squirrel: the best leaves for shaping a nest, the easiest way from rooftop to rooftop, knowing where the nuts are buried.