Bur Oak - Bowerbirds

The room calls to me, says we’re all strung out

And the beat we both stomp on the floor

While outside the leopard frogs sing sweetly

These are the hymns that today we’ve ignored

And all across the desert, and all up in the mountains:

A wind so loud that we might never mention

And here’s to my lover’s hands and feet

They are the roots that will weave through the floor

And down in the dirt, in her wandering

Find the snail to give us breath, to give us words

He asks us for our patience, he asks us for our patience

And he asks us what we have done for our souls lately

Down by the bur oak tree, I had lost your locket in the loam

And there fell to my knees, neath the coil and the brush of the fern

The candle’s light dances across the table

And will burn at the tip of my pen

And lures all the moths into the kitchen

To spin tales and bend truths through the evening

And scribe for them their stories;

we scribe for them their stories

While they wax and wax of their lives in the country

Down by the bur oak tree, I had lost your locket in the loam

And there fell to my knees, neath the coil and the brush of the fern