“How silently they tumble downAnd come to rest upon the groundTo 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 flyUntil they nearly reach the sky.Twisting, turning through the airTill all the trees stand stark and bare.Exhausted, drop […]
dear diary : November already —
Bricks and Bluebottles 