What’s a little gray?
Crops are in. Today there’s hay.
Harvest up some cheer.
Tired of gloom, I’m picking blooms.
Life is just too short.
Cool nights note the change.
Early fall’s welcomed by all.
Harvest up some joy.
Some win through their smiles.
Corn takes gold in fields of green.
Harvest super stars.
August blooms with joy.
Colors bold before the cold.
Harvests for the soul.
We rock away our worries from a chair and old porch swing.
My view’s a field of drying hay.
And hers, of chicks that sing.
She left a city full of woe where no one gets along.
It seems those birds know more than us when breaking into song.
They chant of peace, the plant we crave to feed each hungry soul.
I pray we harvest a bumper crop before there’s a bigger toll.
Harvest hoedown continues.
Till sleds reappear.
Today I will play.
My feet feel of clay.
I know I have chores,
But frankly, they’re bores.
So I’ll soak up the sun,
Until there is none.
Then dance with fall’s starry sky,
To scents of fresh apple pie.
In awe of my harvest moon,
Hoping autumn won’t leave too soon.
Corn erupts again.
Fall’s fireworks fanning the fields,
Soon to sleep in silks.
Harvest in the fields.
Bounty of chores in full bloom.
Pumpkins make me smile.