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ITS 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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