ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 4
TIME TO GO
winter light
roads dim in the fog
trees hold up their evidence
a voice going home
on the gravel lanes led
by deviations written
on the inner bark of sycamores
the crows fly over
they are like us though
their words are higher in the air
and not so easily lost
what happens to a feather
they shed is it drifts
till something catches it
or something else wants
to bear it away
we should get going
the voice will be there before us
we can hold hands
the going will be easier
the chill will leave us
if necessary we can sing
not so far now
pick up your feet
and go singing
the best help is no help
and we struggle so much
our beauty has trouble with us