My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird
I would fly about the earth
seeking the successive autumns.
In autumn when the trees are brown
The little leaves come tumbling down
They do not make the slightest sound
But lie so quietly on the ground
Until the wind comes puffing by
And blows them off towards the sky.
And before they are buried in snow,
There comes a festival season
When nature is all aglow."
~ Author Unknown~
"My leaves are turning crimson," the giant oak tree said,
And now throughout the forest - list! Hear their voices ring,