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.
By Elsie N. Brady, Leaves
HANNA'S WALK 
Superb image and brilliant poem. Thank so much for sharing, Hanna.
Thank you so much, Isabel. The poem is a love letter to the trees 🙂
All the best,
Hanna
What a lovely poem. thank you for introducing me to it. And i like your photo of the big toothed aspen leafs too. They make such a racket coming down don’t you think?
Holly
I’m glad you like it, Holly. It’s stunning with these strong coloured leaves. They do a wonderful painting 🙂
All the best,
Hanna
What a lovely poem you’ve shared, Hanna — and what a gorgeous image you’ve shot to accompany it. Thank you for bringing this moment of beauty all the way across the pond. 🙂
Dear Heide. The pleasure is entirely on my side. I found the poem first, and was forced 🙂 to explore for the golden foliage. Luckily I did a walk in a beautiful bog near my house.
so lovely!
Oh! I could wish you could see the rest of this amazing bog with the water glittering and leaves that sparkle and dance in the afternoon ❤
it’s beautiful.
Thank you!!