Sunday

"Rainbows Of Autumn"

A season dies, a new one's born like night gives way to day . 

In Autumn when the leaves turn brown,

red and gold, they all fall down.

To paint a picture, oh so rare!

I know that GOD is there...

To mastermind His ebb and flow; to stage His wondrous Autumn show, To brush His skies with molten gold; I watch His art unfold.

No grander sight could I behold: these leaves of brown, red and gold. But Winter bodes its icy chills upon the snow-clad hills.

In time the land, a living scene,

comes bursting forth in savage green;

and I confront the season's thieves

that took my Autumn leaves.

But soon a softness is in the air!

GOD paints a picture,

oh so rare, of autumn leaves

that all turn brown,

red and gold as they fall down.

~~By Henry W. Gurley.~~ 

The air turns cool, the leaves turn brown,

a change is taking place,

and everywhere the signs

appear of fall's approaching face.

The birds begin their

southward flight that takes them far away,

and in their plaintive song

and cry a fond good-bye they say.

A season dies, a new one's born l

ike night gives way to day.

Such is the wondrous work of God
in His own chosen way.

~~By Harold F. Mohn.~~

H/T John Klaus