Breathing Crisp Air

Breathing Crisp Air

The pasture lies in rolling splendor,

Waving grass not yet turned brown,

Goldenrod in breezes bend or,

Bob in vibrance up and down.

The woods across the field stand stately,

In the glory of their hues.

Orange maple, red oak, lately,

Flaunt their beauty like good news.

Spears of sunlight streak right through them,

Turning pale gold into fire,

Wind stirs up the leaves it blew then

Lets them drift as if he's tired.

All year long I wait to see this

Glory as the world turns on,

Gulp crisp breaths of air and be this

Evermore my marching song.

Invigorating, zestful, free,

Striding down the sloping hill,

I know that I shall never see

A dearer sight as I stand still.

How could man, so lowly, doubt God

Looking at the sight I see?

Think that some poor soul just might not

Feel the love Fall gives to me?

God has Heaven all around Him.

He needs not the colored wood.

Is it not a gift to me then?

God is love! My God is good!

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atspro's picture

What lovely pictures you paint
Colours wider than my eyes and as far as I can see
Gods painting can be fun!!
Well done.

kat's picture

Mmmmmmm....dontcha just love the Fall? I can't wait. Seems to be my favorite time of year now that I've moved out here. Very nice poem Jessica, nice images for the mind. Nice painting too.


Leah's picture

I really liked the colors in your graphics. The music had that same marching tempo to it also. Thanks for an enjoyable evening.