Come take a walk, we’ll peal and talk,
And dream by the old plum tree.
Vault the old gate and hasten to take
The plunder of streams to be.
Moss covered stones will rock our bones
But the fruits will provide for our needs.
Soften the blows with hard earned shows –
Take the bugs with the birds and the bees.
Tell me of how, when you hadn’t the clown,
The river flowed right to your knee.
And how even though now it’s not calmed down,
The current still runs to your sea.
I haven’t the might of the frost bitten light
That shines on the soles of your feet,
But let me alight to the ship in your sights,
And I will ever be the strength in your seat.