On a windswept plain in a quiet place,
Beneath the stars in the moonlight’s glow,
Memories drift on the rising tide
As feelings flow through the seams of time.
Bound together they whirl and spin,
Weaving threads into fleeting glimpses.
These little thoughts are born to feel.
The meal’s been ground on the miller’s wheel.
A misty vision settles in.
It grows into a mighty swell.
Rolling over the present tense,
It leaves the heart with no defense.
No fence can bind this fertile field.
Its earthy yield is what we feel
But wrapped around on the spinning wheel
We’ll twist and turn ‘till those feelings heal.
