September Harvest

In quietness and in beauty
She tiptoes softly in and waits in pregnant richness for her fulfillment to begin;
The misty, dew-filled mornings with promises abound,
The squirrels, acorn-laden,
Move with scarce a sound.

September speaks of autumn, yet summer lingers on,
Reluctant to depart, she refuses to be gone;
The harvest has been
Gathered, bedecked the country church
Yet for nectar from the Flowers the lazy bees Still search.

September in the woods and fields means blackberries by the score,
Means mushrooms and means sweetcorn, apples ripened to the core,
The first cold winds of winter, although a breath away
Are forgotten in the
Mellow gold of this September day.

As we offer up thanksgiving for the harvest gathered in,
For the fruitfulness of autumn before the winter storms begin,
As we gaze around at nature’s feast, at the blessings we’ve been sent
In praise and quiet reflection should this
Lovely day be spent.
 

A Poem for Thought

For years I’ve stood here, day by day, year by year.
Calling the ever faithful to bow their heads in prayer.
Giving shelter to the needy, succour to the poor,
Serving God and his people with an open door
I’ve welcomed little children as they start their Christian life.
Rejoiced with happy couples becoming man and wife.
I’ve given comfort to the grieving, whose loved ones have passed o’er,
With promises of a better life for those who go before.
But alas, I’m bricks and mortar, and the years have not been kind.
My need of you is greater now; so let our loved combined, think
Not of the past and present, but to a future that is long.
To forthcoming generations whose heritage may be gone.
Though my structure may be crumbling, my heart is strong and true;
And if I go, you well may find, the one who’s lost is you