The Harp of Autumn Capilla del Monte, Argentina When autumn opens its heart to reveal The bounty of colour held within its awe We are lured into the silence of crystal blue skies Whose breast embraces the depth of our souls Water of the sacred mountain trickles divine Tickling forth sounds incumbent in every stone Music streams through the fingers of the fall Its rocky rhythm beats to the accord of our hearts What hand have I in this glory? In this luxury of creation? What mind have I in this music? In this festive Grace? What song sing I in natural magic? In humble silence? My final words strung upon the gently falling leaves Of the autumnal harp ! Copyright 2007, Tom Radzienda. !