Autumn's comenAnd the leaves are looking brown and drynSun swings lownA fruit resists the thirsty groundnUselesslynI try to coax a cloud or twonSearching the skiesnKnowing there ain't nothing left to donnSummer's turned to goldnMy garden's tired and oldnThe dust swirls round my bowlnAnd still, no sign of rainnnFaithfullynI've tended to my patch of landnYear by yearnI've scratched to keep my humble clannnNow and thennSome thunderheads come out of the bluenTrouble isnThey've always been too far and fewnnSummer's turned to fallnThe air is thick and coldnI feel it in my bonesnBut still, no sign of rainnnSilence shades my lonely claimnThough all is goldnThere is no rainnStill, I hear my singing bonesnnAnd I believenRain will fall