One by one, the crickets still; silent shadows are stealing up the hill;
Behind the house, the air is turning chill: Winter's coming in.

You & I, we've known the seasons,
Watched the blossom from the springtime slowly ripen into fruit
And through all kinds of season, it's here we're taking root,
Here we're taking root.

You see everything so clearly; and I am slow to learn,
But there's some pages in our history,
It seemed so hard to turn: no man's made of stone.

From up here you can see the wild geese fly
And that blood-orange of a sun, slipping down the sky;
The wind will be in our faces, by and by.

And for the first time in a long time,
The sound of summer laughter finds an echo in my heart;
For the first time in a long time, I'm where the story starts,
It's here the story starts.
Give me your hand now, Turn your face toward the sun
I understand, now: our story is just begun.

Caught in this fold of landscape
I look out at the river and the dusk that's coming in
My home is where your heart is, under this pale moon.

Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP]