There comes sometime
in this and that man's life,
when he must rise above,
deeply stare about,
at all of nature's wonders
simply reaching out,
to take him for a trip upon his knees.

All those back wood roads
that he had traveled on,
with all his favorite foes
who've already been around,
heard the willows weeping,
barn door ivy creeping,
toads so still as stools,
in waist deep muddy pools.

Silly dream away,
I need not do.
For nature's nearest wonder
is sleeping in this room.

Grasping through the pitchest black
among fallen leaves and acorn hearts,
hoping to find my lover's unclothed lap
to lay my weary kiss upon.

Softness is her remedy
when daylight's hidden melody
refuses me a chance to sing
a moment of its song.
Loving is her answer.
when nighttime's composition
sounds out of tune for me,
words need not be.

Loving is her harmony,
faithful is her harmony,
faithful as the wind.

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