Admin
Admin
Number of posts : 4171
Age : 65
Location : Texas
Registration date : 2008-10-24
 | | Subject: Indian Summer Sat Nov 01, 2008 12:01 am | |
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Indian Summer
by Mrs Roy L. Peifer 1962
Mother Nature's day is over,
Now she's come to set o' sun'
Her children safetly all in bed,
Her summer chores all done.
The trees and vines are bare of fruit,
The meadows gold and brown,
The dry corn rustles mournfully,
The leaves come drifting down.
The fertile fields lie barren,
'Neath the azure blue o' sky...
But with golden harvest treasures
Each storehouse is mounded high.
Everything is snug and ready
For the winter months ahead,
Mother Nature sighs,-- contented
All her children will be fed.
The squirrel has his store of nuts,
The birds have flown away,
Woodchuck's snug within his den--
Wild geese went honking south today.
But yet the breeze is gentle, warm-
The days are soft and still...
Sunshine, like a benediction,
Lies upon each quiet hill.
Soon with soft white snowy blankets,
Spread upon her gentle breast-
Mother Nature, with her children,
Will lie down to take her rest.
She has saved this glorious time
That lasts so short a while...
The peaceful twilight of her day,
To meditate,--and smile.
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