As I wind down the pines
It's the lines on your face
Playing on your face.
Without thinking so much
As abandoning thought
I went through open country
Over water meadow streams
Lakes and wires and roosts in reeds
To a nest in the hole of
This dead
Tree.
To play without stopping or pause
Not for silence not for applause
Not without thinking
And thinking's abandoning thought.
As I wind down the pines
It's the lines on your face
Playing on your face.
1 | Ahead by a Century |
2 | New Orleans is Sinking |
3 | Bobcaygeon |
4 | Long Time Running |
5 | Little Bones |
6 | Blow at High Dough |
7 | In View |
8 | Trouble At The Henhouse |
9 | At Transformation |
10 | Courage |