Replete with woodland’s banquet, now the flocks

Begin to gather for their winter break;

As trees cast off autumnal russet frocks,

A rustling blanket in the summer’s wake.

Then swirling, now transparent, now opaque,

A roiling cloud that stains the sunset sky,

Till all at once a shared consensus makes

A turn, to arrow swiftly up so high,

Without a backward look, nor pause to say goodbye.