Autumn Colours
I have never seen them
Nor has anyone else
Tiny, magical little creatures
Waiting through the heat of summer
Pacing back and forth
Wearing holes in their floors
Waiting for the first cool breeze of September
They ready themselves for the right moment
Paint buckets by their sides, brushes in hand
When the first breezes of October come
They fly to the cities and forests of the north
Stopping to paint every leaf on every tree
And even though they may only last a short time
Everyone admires their work
And, a few who know who they are
Will thank them and wait another year
Just to see their magic once again
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