Wet is my whistleWandering waywardTrouser is caught in a thorny brambleSun soon be slippingDown spine of the meadowSwamp candle flowerA watery fellowThe monarch my right handLeft is the sparrowTwilight blue my bone and marrowThe river's path is old and narrowFirst evening starTo comfort the scarecrowPull me up by the roots of my hairInto the rosy atmospherePull me up by the roots of my hairInto the rosy atmosphereMarveling over dead branchesWind in the grasses
