Poetry

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Fall is a time when leaves turn brown
The gentle winds blows them down
Away from me the tree tells the leaves
What a swirling pattern the leaf weaves

Useless now as they lie on the ground
I see piles of them as I look around
God uses them although they are dead
They enrich the soil that grows the bread

Birthed in the bright greenness of the spring
Growing for the heat that summer would bring
Time passes and summer becomes fall
The cold winds of winter would soon call

Seasons, times and leaves our God made
Leaves to cover the trees for a cool shade
Seasons on cycle according to His plan
Times to remind us of his love for all man

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