Rob Getman: Terra Patris (This is my Father's world) 1915

Rainbows Of Fall

In Autumn when the leaves turn brown
And red and gold, they all fall down.
To paint a picture, oh so rare!
I know that God is there...

To mastermind His ebb and flow;
To stage His wondrous Autumn show,
To brush His skies with molten gold;
I watch His art unfold.

No grander sight could I behold:
These leaves of brown and red and gold.
But Winter bodes its icy chills
Upon the snow-clad hills.

In time the land, a living scene,
Comes bursting forth in savage green;
And I confront the season's thieves
That took my Autumn leaves.

But soon a softness in the air!
God paints a picture, oh so rare
Of Autumn leaves that all turn brown
And red and gold as they fall down.

~~By Henry W. Gurley.~~

The air turns cool, the leaves turn brown,
A change is taking place,
And everywhere the signs appear
Of Fall's approaching face.

The birds begin their southward flight
That takes them far away,
And in their plaintive song and cry
A fond good-bye they say.

A season dies, a new one's born
Like night gives way to day.
Such is the wondrous work of God
In His own chosen way.

~~By Harold F. Mohn.~~

A stroll through the woods, a mountain hike, a nap on the beach, in such encounters with nature we often find peace. There's just something about the leaves, rocks, and sand that makes us feel at home in this world. They release us from the humdrum of our busy lives and bring us back to the basics of life.

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Rob Getman midi
Terra Patris (This is my Father's world) 1915


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