As the seasons pass, the leaves take off their old shades and wear those of the new term. Near the end of Autumn, steadily approaching the frosty winter, they strip themselves of the vermilion and hazel contours that they once adorned. Many of the leaves go into hiding, but some put on a new coat of sorts. The few that remain wear a covering of gentle white lace which gives the wearer a feeling that all whom wear such lace possess, a feeling of faintness and delicacy. As the term once again shifts, so do the leaves and their garments. At this time, the lace is shed and fittingly replaced with a verdant gown of Spring. The leaves and their sisters dance to the mellifluous tunes of songbirds. They dance and dance and when all have grown weary, they still.
There are of course, still traces of the bountiful Spring, however, the leaves and their sisters no longer dance as merrily, for they know that the show must end soon. Summer has come and gone, the green gowns are soon taken off in exchange for the passionate red robes and rich hazel tunics of Autumn, which in time, give life to a paradise of gold and rubies.