| Autumn s come
|
| And the leaves are lookin brown and dry.
|
| Sun swings low,
|
| A fruit resists the thirsty ground.
|
| Uselessly,
|
| I try to coax a cloud or two.
|
| Searchin the skies,
|
| Knowin there ain t nothing left to do.
|
| Summer s turned to gold,
|
| My garden s tired and old,
|
| The dust swirls round my bowl —
|
| And still, no sign of rain.
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| Faithfully,
|
| I ve tended to my patch of land.
|
| Year by year,
|
| I ve scratched to keep my humble clan.
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| Now and then
|
| Some thunderheads come out of the blue.
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| Trouble is,
|
| They ve always been too far and few.
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| Summer s turned to fall,
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| The air is thick and cold,
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| I feel it in my bones —
|
| But still, no sign of rain.
|
| Silence shades my lonely claim —
|
| Though all is gold,
|
| there is no rain.
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| Still, I hear my singin bones
|
| And I believe
|
| Rain will fall. |