Beneath the Trees Without a Care

Leaves 

by Elsie N. Brady

How silently the tumble down

And come to rest upon the ground

To lay a carpet, rich and rare,

Beneath the trees without a care,

 to sleep, their work well done,

Colours 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 the earth below

To wait, like children, for the snow.

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