The reaper's joy is now complete
The harvest bounty, oh so sweet,
The canning's done by setting sun
It's time to count our blessings son
Soon birds will sing their farewell song
Days will be short, nights too long
Saddest of all the leaves will fall
Yet we can count our blessings of fall
For in the barn hay is stacked
And in barrels, apples are packed
There's logs for the fire before we retire
We have so many blessings totally entire
In the basement, the walls are lined,
With jars of food, most every kind,
We won't fear when winter's here
God's given us blessings preciously dear.
~ Meshelle Brown ~
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