Walk Between The Trees

in the trees there is a talking, and the words are never still
and we walk along the trail until we’ve had our daily fill.
sometimes night will ride above us, and the moonlight makes a path
sometimes, too, there is a weeping gray until the clouds have passed.

in the streams i see our dreaming, and the dreams are never dull
and the laughter and the chatter is an echo in my skull.
i know things are always moving and they never move the same
that a painting can not change if you will only change the frame.

in the distance is a sighing and the sighing never stops.
there are times i am afraid that we have gotten very lost.
and from there i have to wonder if he knows the way back home
yet i know he only wonders how the cabbage leaves have grown.
how the water will be cool or warm
the flies slow or persistent
if the pasture will be greener than the time which he had left it.

in my heart there is a hurting, and the hurting never ends.
and we walk along the lonely trail to help the hurt to mend.
he is always soft and silent, just a passenger with me
as i walk between the trees where i imagine you with me.