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The screen door to the farmer's porch |
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To the back porch, to the back lands |
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It's never left closed |
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A new air pushed a full wind |
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That brought worlds on through |
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That only he could know |
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As the last of November passed |
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With his new life, with his new wife |
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She said she was feeling a little cold |
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The ghost of a clown just danced in and |
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Did a few tricks and danced out again |
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Warming a farmer's soul |
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Summer was all there was |
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We were working, breathing heat |
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Terror rising out of control |
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Through that door came a breeze |
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Wrapped on through our heads and around our spines |
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Cooling off the burning floor |
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The morning's breaking woke us long enough |
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We were sure we could see |
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The whole of some older birds |
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Riding to the ground on the falling leaves |
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Riding to the ground on some falling leaves |
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One last time, one last time to feed |
