We've spent many hours this week in the woods. When the wind blows, leaves fall all around like rain and we rush this way and that trying to catch them, laughing as we bump into things while looking in the air. Some leaves are still green and cling proudly to their branches. Others in shades of yellow, gold, brown, orange, red and burgundy wave gently against a background of brilliant blue, waiting for the breeze that will send them on their downward journey. The low sun glints through the canopy overhead, turning the yellow hickory trees to gold and sparkling on water like magic. The leaves crunch under our feet, rustle as they float down, nuts and acorns freefall and land with a soft thud, and squirrels are having a ball racing around the trees and chirping to one another. Dried leaves on the ground can be piled up, jumped in, thrown in the air, admired and collected.
Like a leaf or a feather in the windy autumn weather
We turn around and turn around then all float down together.