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Autumn In Georgia





There's a path that I take, where no one else walks,

And it leads through a carpet of leaves.

It's a shady cool spot, meandering still

Through the woods where I find special peace.



When the air bears a chill, and the boughs change their dress,

I can't wait to slip into that world,

Where the colors are vivid and the silence is noisy,

And the leaves many-hued, sway and swirl.



When I was a child, I played in the woods,

All alone where the deer ventured near.

And I feasted my eyes on the beauty of all

Nature sent me without dread or fear.



The golden of maple, the dogwood's deep red,

And the sweetgum turning purple in light.

I roamed and I rambled through forest and glen

From morning til the coming of night.



How can I tell of the glory of fall

With mere words that so glibly do roll?

It's a feeling that must be experienced, friend.

It's an awe buried deep in my soul.



Many years have now passed since I smelled hickory smoke

On the wind as I walked through the trees,

But the memories rush back with a clarity yet

Every time I sense smoke on the breeze.



If I could go back to one day in my life

And have things as they were way back when,

I'd return to that wood where the colors did dance

As the smoke drew me homeward again.



For as the years pass and the shadows grow long,

I'm reminded as never before,

That my life too has seasons and summer is past,

And my own autumn lies at the door.



What beckoning sense will I have as a guide

As I ease from the woods of my toil?

Will I falter and fumble as I stumble along?

Or will I step onto Heaven's bright soil?