THE ARTIST

THE ARTIST

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With palette He paints the woodlands
In colors of red and golden hue
Sprinkling colors among the evergreens
As autumn comes into full view.

The sunlight brightens every leaf
With a shimmering glimpse of gold
As the days seem to be shorter,
The wind touches them with cold.

With frenzied touch, the artist paints
In the beginning of September;
Challenging all who pass this way
To stop, breathe deep, remember.

A touch of orange here and there,
And a tree turned crimson red;
Each year brings forth the colors,
Celebrating autumn days ahead.

I've never seen the artist, yet
I know that He's been there,
In the crispness of the mornings
He leaves beauty everywhere.

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Countrymom
9/16/03

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