IT'S AUTUMN TIME AGAIN

IT'S AUTUMN TIME AGAIN

The dying leaves come tumbling down;
Their colors mingling with the brown;
Transforming lawns throughout the town;
It's autumn time again.

The mornings come so crisp and cool;
A foretaste of the winter's cruel;
And all the children are in school;
It's autumn time again.

The hickory nuts from the trees so tall
Roll across my roof like a bowling ball;
I sit in my study and hear them fall;
It's autumn time again.

The harvest food’s piled on tables high;
The apples await the cinnamon pie;
And old Jack Frost is standing by;
It's autumn time again.

So you and I have our seasons, too.
Those summer days, we were young and new;
But now our days are numbering few;
We're in our autumn time.

So harvest comes, and come it must;
Our fruitful lives will return to dust;
But new life will come, that is our trust
In Christ, as our autumn comes.

Written by Joan Rowden Hart, 9-14-02

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