By Elsie N. 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.
The time has come for me to migrate south. I arrived here hungry, seeking sustenance. I had gracious hosts, feasting on the most delectable array of colors offered. My appetite was enormous for sure, gorging every day as I just couldn't get enough... but still they served. I'd continue to consume, but the dishes are now being cleared. I'm satisfied though, as I have a thick layer of insulation to carry me forward, well into winter. Before I go, here is a look back at the gift basket I've been given, satisfying all those years of anticipation.
|Nature's fruit salad|
|Six more, and that makes 55. Check!|
...and now onto one arm push-ups. Is that even possible?