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As the combines roar in the corn fields,
My body feels a slight chill.
There’s crispness in the bursts of air;
And, there are still bins to fill!
The skies are dark and threatening snow.
It’s time to store the small grill;
And bring in the last of garden fruit.
Then, there is still land to till.
I’d like to pack our warm, summer gear,
Travel to a warmer clime;
Avoiding snow, and the huge heat bills,
And be back in summertime!
But, as the snowflakes lazily fall,
There’s a beauty, I can see.
I think of those with white in their hair;
And then, I think—that is me!
Would I go back to the summertime’s,
And live life over again?
Each age has endowed great fulfillment.
No dreaming of “might have been!”
God has seen me through the childhood “springs:”
And through mid-age “summertime’s.”
He’s lovingly guided through the autumns.
I’ll trust Him with “winter times!”
So, whatever His plans are for me,
Though my hair is turning gray;
I’ll joyously live all my “winters,”
And thank Him for each new day
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