Thursday, October 18, 2007



by Elsie Brady

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.


SuzyQ said...

I would love to add your site to my favourites:0)
Would that be okay?

Lisa said...

I'd be honored! &:o) Yours is on my daily visit list!