The seasons come, the season go,
We tumble in our place;
Yet earth holds fast the courses that
The Lord God set in space.
When the earth has finished spring,
And summer’s in the past,
He brings to us once again
A glorious, color~ splash.
Without a paint brush or scaffold.
He drops the yellow down,
Like the little chicks in springtime,
Then he changes it to brown.
Sometimes it turns to red and rust,
Sometimes a golden blaze ~
And I catch my breath and linger long
At the closing of these days.
For the Lord is the Master Painter ~
Undisputed in the fall;
When He turns the earth so sunsets
Catch the colors of it all.
I think a life can be seen that way,
When our eyes are old and dim,
Still the beautiful color can be seen
When we’ve lived a life for Him!
What is man, that thou art mindful of him?
and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
© Joan Clifton Costner
To every thing there is a season, and
a time to every purpose under the heaven: