After the time the geese are here
And make their way upon the land
And nest upon the level sand
Their young to have, and raise, and rear

In a soul I beg there is no fear
Under cracks of rolling thunder
There to rend my heart asunder
And split it with a winter spear

The furs and pine at dawn appear
O’er the mountain, a sun arise
To blind and burn my humble eyes
A mountain breeze towards me steer

Clouds aloft, the shapes draw near
Yet I can only rue the day
And scorn all hope, embrace dismay
There’s not a lick of merry, here

Drowning woes with gin and beer
And bury a bullet in my brain
A way to ease the stress and pain
Wash me, God, I am a stain
And there is no one else to blame
To help me see what is unclear

Geese arrive, they squawk and leer
And waddle upon level the sand
And prepare to leave the land
To greet the firmament with cheer

The Herald’s tune, to hail the dawn
A triumph yet to ascertain
A song he plays of light, yet drawn
Of solidarity and pain

Pipes of reeds, o’er marshlands plays
The plains, they thud with silent drum
A Fiddle’s twang do catch the rays
Through sunlights’ beams, a silent strum

Sullen notes on gusting lips
Cascading swells, the bird song’s rush
To greet the day before it slips
Into song’s by nightingale or thrush

Ensnared in songs, enraptured hence
The beasts that roam do share their calls
And beseech the Herald to commence
The coming day through woodland halls

Pines and oak do creak and bend
The Herald’s tune they seek as well
To wash through branch, their bark to mend
In the languish of the music’s spell

A song to bring the morning forth
To chase the fears of Night in wonder
But The Herald’s melody finds worth
In those who’s heart are split asunder

It binds the wounds of waifs and strays
And to the lost, a guiding token
So heed The Herald’s tune in ways
That heals your heart when it is broken

By the robin’s breast, and vibrant dove
Remember, friend, that you are loved