rewind

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
Til all the trees stand stark and bare.

Exhausted, drop to the earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.

by Elsie N. Brady