Yesterday were feeling dreary - mind were limp and body ill,
Thought me ought me take a walk up to the top of village hill.
Dragged about me leather jacket army boot and nearly soon
Plunged me out of dingy household into golden afternoon.
Zapped were me by all the birdies filled mine head with birdie song
Skylark, sparrow, blackbird, tit, I dare not did to sing along.
Wintry sun were slowly sinking making way for wintry moon
and wintry legs worked hard to catch it, climbed the orange afternoon.
Nor did me simply walk sedately to the top of village hill
but jumped and leapt and laughed and wept and danced to all the birdie trill
the trees - these ears against their trunks told knowledge of their own
How tiny seeds to mighty trees of many years have grown
Our branches are the woodwinds for the air to play said one
Now make haste poor rootless creature you must catch the setting sun.
Twas then me left behind them trees and booted rootless climbed
the last leg of the rocky knoll to see what eyes might find
Upon the very summit lay a single silver tree
A forgotten fallen sentinel remembered now by me.
Me put the tiny village in palm of outstretched hand
Me stood on fallen sentinel looked far into the land
Where many distant hills and valleys disappeared into the sky
And beneath a dome of indigo this held its head up high.
The North wind blew on hard and strong and shouted her voice into these ears
She gives this face a runny nose and made these eyes filled up with tears
and streaked them back into this hair which lifted swirling everywhere...
Instr .