The leaves are turning softly

Summers time is at an end

It’s autumn in the mountains

As the painting now begins.

Natures truest beauty

In her hues that  brightly show

As the colors in a patch work quilt

My mother used to sew.

The fields have yielded labor

As it is time for winters rest

The harvest moon lights up the night

For the jubilant Autumns fest.

So as the night grows gently colder

With the mist that fills the air

I take comfort in the solitude

And give thanks to God in prayer.

-Antony King  © 2016


















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