As I stand in the garden,

You flutter on by,

Tumbling down,

From up in the sky,

With the faintest patter,

You lay on the ground,

Landing so graceful,

Hardly a sound,

Covering the earth,

Like a warm over coat,

Flying like a bird,

You dance and you float,

As winter time comes,

You fade into mush,

Pushed to one side,

With an old sweeping brush,

Weeks go by you start to go,

Soon replaced,

By a layer of snow,

In months to come,

Your sure to return,

Sprouting from the trees,

So glossy and firm,

Without you here,

Our trees would be bare,

And nothing would shade us,

From the constant sun glare.