Once more the rain is falling
like tears from angry clouds,
And the verdant days of summer
are wrapped in charcoal shrouds.
Soon frost will wrap the meadow
in tiny shawls of white,
And the yellow rose of summer
will vanish out of sight.
The aspens now are golden
and the maple's face is red
In the season we call autumn
when humble "thanks" are said.
For truly we are grateful
for the bounty of God's love
As we contemplate the harvest
and praise His name above!
~ Clay Harrison
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