Autumn Grace Capilla del Monte, Argentina The Luxury of a garden lunch, beneath a simple blue décor: The final ears of spinach are crisp to the cold Hearty peppers suggest the need for a warmer coat And boiling soup of potatoes and carrots to arouse The final warm embers that will soon embrace another night Creatures still abound; those in for the long Haul of colder and windier nights Whose afternoon chirps belie the quickly dipping sun; Not exhausted, exactly, but none of the fiery truth That once burned in summer veins Read this page, fresh from autumn, grace Songs of a voice hidden among barely clad limbs Greet hungry viewers; no; participants all In the Global touch of Autumn Grace, just now arriving At the Chapel on the Mountain; a show well rehearsed, But nevertheless spectacular in its subtlety. We, none of us, may merely witness and observe We, all of us, sing too our songs, brew too our soups Change too our colours, fall to our knees In humble awe of Autumn Being Within ! Copyright 2007, Tom Radzienda. !