True blue and cleared sky Where the pasture meets the woodland And the current meets the past — That is where I’ll meet you.
Evening falls, And the field glows Burgundy, I’ll come near you.
The sky is a well of inky black Pinpricked with diamonds, Still, I’ll be so near.
We will languish in the woods, Forge friendships with the trees. When the trees got tire of us, We will go Befriend the tall grass.
Such are the inhabitants of this place— This place Where the pasture meets the woodland. And you and I, Oh dear companion, Will slip into their ordinary, While remaining wholly in our own very extraordinary And these hours It counts for you!