By Ruth Koehler

Hues of yellow, red and gold

Gone are the greens displayed so bold.

Brown corn fields standing perky and straight,

A reminder it will come down late.

Living in places where seasons surprise us

Keep us scrambling for wraps to provide us

Glancing at our gauge each morning,

We plan our day with reverent warning

Of the tipping point of frost’s stronghold

On our lush crop’s profits held so bold.

We pray for God’s plenteous bounty

As we await nature’s call, we pray loudly

Lord, we love our crops whose yields we bear

Guide us to be thankful year after year.

Other harvests await as the cold weather nears

The deer, geese, and ducks all know fear.

Who named it the harvest of creatures brought down

We know there are those whose faces frown

We know the numbers would be too many

If hunters would never harvest any.

Cooking venison can be a challenge

Those who’ve mastered it are mum, no message

Only say their meat tastes like beef

Even as others say “that you can keep.”

We agree that Harvests in Autumn are fruitful

The weather keeps one alert and hopeful.

If autumn could last six months or more

It would answer my best wish for sure!