So standing on high
under the harvest sun
crows wailing like sirens
guardian every bend
glide among the fields
and glean with their beaks
Every golden acre
of every bolden son
swallowing chaw
or standing in awe
bend down the stalk
or rend it whole
Waving books in the air
shouting voices hoarse
making it well known
of all they won't allow
elevate our children forth
and bid them likewise
We'll put our grain together
and smoke out the weeks
hum some national hymn
and breathe through our teeth
bank on revivalists
to pray the rain down
***
We'll put our hands together
under the harvest moon
with a silence like sirens
a ringing prairie tune
a song like rivers course
out from dry throats
***
scratch our names here
with our pocket knives
we'd trench our own if they gave me
1000 rivers to quench my thirst...
baby, we were born to thirst
The Canadian singer-songwriter and environmental activist excels at helping to find a silver lining; everything is transitory, but that doesn’t mean it’s unsurmountable. Bandcamp Album of the Day Feb 18, 2020