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Indiana's last white water creek
Big Pine Creek in Indiana
Summer reluctantly exits stage left;
her lush train of shady lawns
and bright gardens
trailing after her;
Bidding us follow to tropical climes
and warm waters.
But Autumn is beckoning;
with plumes of prairie grass,
trees new garbed with color;
golden rod, sunflowers,
And promise of bright grain.
Ribbons of mist lie over the fields,
reflect the rising sun,
and welcome the new day.
The tart tang of apples,
the buzzing of bees as they
hover over Jonathon and Grimes Golden;
Gardens hanging heavy with harvest riches;
call to the gatherer in all of us.
Glass jars appear and canning begins.
The promise of sweet preserves
and luscious confections rises
from warm kitchens
and steaming kettles.
Autumn has come in all her glory
and we know the season of family
gatherings is near.
God is good. We are blessed.
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