The Handing Over Time

The creek beds dries and then it fills,
The shadows lengthen as shadows will.
The last wild roses go to seed,
The summer birds, they take their leave,
As the light goes golden, golden.
Here we are, here I am,
Here we stand in the handing over time.
All that shines all that rusts,
In the light and borrowed dust,
It all comes round and round again.
Curtains of leaves drift away,
The fields are filled with wheels of hay.
The yellow finches fade to gray,
At least the ones who choose to stay,
As the light goes golden, golden.
Here we are, here I am,
Here we stand in the handing over time.
All that shines all that rusts,
In the light and borrowed dust,
It all comes round and round again.
Something fine and true and deep
Happened when I was asleep.
Something there right in my palm,
It was here and then it's gone.
The creek bed dries and then it fills.
The shadows lengthen as shadows will,
As the light goes golden, golden
Here we are, here I am,
Here we stand in the handing over time.
All that shines all that rusts,
In the light and borrowed dust,
It all comes round and round again.