Golden Rod Sunrise

He took the Golden Rods As a paintbrush Swept them across the sky Painted yellow sunshine Bright against the natural eye Then the artist used Cornflowers Filled in all the empty space This gracious sky he decorated On this my fall day But very early in the morn The poor country bride Swept across the dale Dressed in her gray muslin gown Adorned in her bridal vale Dragging her gray shawl Against the red clay ground Running up the hill On across the creek Her laughter very shrill As she danced and skipped Happy with her new love found She had married the artist Who painted away The gray fog of the morning With the Golden Rod today