All afternoon the strange birds fly
Against the blue vault of the sky,
Hang and hover, dip and glide
Along the wooded mountainside.
With coloured bands, their wings outspread
In gold and yellow, white and red,
Before the wind they gather pace,
They turn about with casual grace.
Then softly, gently, come to land,
And from the roadside where we stand
We see, in watching their descents,
They are young men with parapents!