At Last With Fall

What beauty comes at last with Fall When golden hour is best of all - Where Autumn’s light set trees aglow With shimmering shades and bright yellow, And where each backdrop’s reddish scene Is sprinkled with some evergreen. It seems to be a magic sign When colors clash against the pine, And temperatures begin to change While verdant hillsides rearrange. It’s when there’s splendor by a lake, And when there’s piles of leaves to rake; There’re pumpkin patches plain in view, And frost that chills each morning dew. What beauty comes at last with Fall When sunflowers grow up nice and tall, And sway in fields where asters grow With purple heads lined in a row - Where butterflies swim in the air, And dance amongst the clover there. There’s wonder in a mountain scene With quilt-like colors in between The peaks, the ranges, and the sky Where downy cotton clouds drift by. There’re crisp clean chills felt in each breeze While gently fall the sun scorched leaves; An amber tinge to morning’s haze, And maple leaves glow with a blaze. What beauty comes at last with Fall As God repaints His earthen ball With touches made with red and gold? It is a wonder to behold. But though I’m no authority - I know God did this all for me.