Fall

When journeys sink into the ground,

I watch the sparrow don his crown.

And when the pale red horn is sound,

The gentle rakers there are drown.

The simple life of one so clear,

Is asking one more for the shear.

Ask not!

Light clothes are worn, light souls may call.

The simple life of one may fall.

After the rain has fallen true,

The leaves clumsily join their wake.

The dead sing softer still to you,

A boat ripples over the lake.

A whirlwind dost not make God's hand,

Nor the slight souls left to this land.

Ask not!

Light clothes are worn, light souls may call.

The simple life of one may fall.