
How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.
At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.
~author unknown~
9 hours ago






1 comments:
Hi Carrie,
I love all the photos you took on your blog, and this beautiful poem is just right for the season~
Theresa
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