The leaves are turning colors,
The warm air slides on south,
Persimmons begin to ripen and fall;
Causing puckeriness in the mouth.
Sweaters and long sleeves,
Are switched from the shorts;
Hunters in their tree stands,
Give ear to deer snorts.
Fields of corn and soybeans,
Have turned to brown from green;
As the combines harvest the crops,
Clouds of dust empower to be seen.
Pumpkins and gourds line porches,
Creepy things hang from trees;
The harvest moon trails the night,
And wind howls from the breeze.
Hints of winter are in the air,
Fire pits glisten in the night;
The crackling sounds of logs,
Brings forth beauty in His light!