Creep on, season of green, And warm the stagnant ground with springtime blessing.
Banish winter's brown, Bathe cold soil with warm; And with your power, wrench from it life. Touch still forms that through cold winterlay dormant, but even in suspension knew that your warm hand would clutch all frigid shapes, and wring from them new life That they would grow again, Be blessed again by ageless sun that in warming glory would shine again. Here in the cold and grey we wait.
With impatient tractors, cold barns, bags of seed, Things and places wrapped in farmland mystery, Precious moments, us in solitude, Waiting for winter cold and bleak to go, For numbing winds to disappear into a past where all the winters go; Wrapped with all the seasons in brown and rotting leaves, Fallow fields and flying snow. Ah, the streams of memories Seasons mixed and mellowed in time's unrushing fashion, As we wait for springtime soon to come When in the sunshine we will walk and work together.
Warm together, On this, our precious land.
