DESCRIPTION:
Rare is the bluebird in these parts anymore/Only the ravens sit outside my door/And I can't help but wonder who they're waiting for/All of the hayfields have been mowed and rolled/Flowers and weeds gone to seed by the road/And it won't be long now 'til it's bitter and cold/The leaves will soon turn in September frost/And me and the trees will remember and mourn each leaf that is lost/As autumn returns to the hills and the hollows/Skies fill with southbound formations of swallows/And while I welcome the rain I just dread what follows/Puts me in mind of that October day/I kissed you goodbye and watched you fly away/But you never returned with the warm wings of May/As daylight grows short/The nights dark and long/The robins and cardinals and finches and me/Will sing our sad song/For we have been left here with nowhere to go/We puff out our chests/Settle into our nests /And wait for the snow/Another year gone/Again we shall wait/ With the hopes that my love and the warmth will return/Before it's too late.