Content to sleep, their work well done,Colors gleaming in the sun.
At other times, they wildly flyUntil they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the airTill all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth belowTo wait, like children, for the snow.
poem courtesy of http://www.dltk-holidays.com/fall/mbrady.htm
Jaedin and myself doing a yearly must do tradition in Grandpa's beautiful backyard.