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