"Rain," they call her. But new are her scents Always and old, and old And very old will grow The touch of her hands On my September chicks, So, "My love," I call her.
Recall you were loved, In cold times and in Earth's blankets I watched Your sun rise to warmth. I burned for the fire of you, And for the fire of you And from it I ran away.
You know darling, first light is a season away, You know darling this fire seldom dazzles; If fears should come before they go away, If seasons should spin before the dust settles, Darling, why don't you come closer? Why don't you come closer?