Golden Rod Sunrise
He took the Golden Rods
As a paintbrush
Swept them across the sky
Painted yellow sunshine
Bright against the natural eye
Then the artist used Cornflowers
Filled in all the empty space
This gracious sky he decorated
On this my fall day
But very early in the morn
The poor country bride
Swept across the dale
Dressed in her gray muslin gown
Adorned in her bridal vale
Dragging her gray shawl
Against the red clay ground
Running up the hill
On across the creek
Her laughter very shrill
As she danced and skipped
Happy with her new love found
She had married the artist
Who painted away
The gray fog of the morning
With the Golden Rod today
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