She plays tunes under the moon
With her violin made from balsa wood
For the lightest of sounds you ever could
Hear in the night between timber wood

She plays Spanish guitar
In a dandelion field beneath golden stars
Where all the notes that she plays travel afar
From galaxies out, back to the strings of the heart

She daily beats on the wooden drum
From the first sign of light to the mornings beyond
Inviting us all, each and everyone
To her wistful tunes she shares out of love

The tambourine is all she's missing
To top off the sounds of her musical knitting
Drawing you close in hopes that you'll listen
To this her ritual of symphony