Times

  When the night drapes heavy
  With a silver moon lone in orbit
  And the wet air is hard to breathe
  Think of me, I'll bring a cup of love
  With two straws, and a backpack of dreams
  Though your mosquito net is musty and cold
  We shall converse until the hours wear thin
  And slumber so the morning sun pries us awake

  When the winds howl at your window
  With a power of sadness seeking mercy
  And your curtains play with dark shadows
  Think of me, I'll ride long into the night
  And descend upon your doorstep of expectation
  Though your pulpit is stampeded with preachment
  We shall make songs and sing them out in blessing
  And freely condone the fury of the unchained night

  When the clouds thicken with darkness
  And the world seems capsized in dissent
  When the orchards are empty of nestlings
  Think of me, I'll come with baggy pockets
  Of home-spun poems and gentle imagination
  Though my trade is humble and my coffer lean
  We shall carve out a niche of time in reserve
  And haul our pillows of burden in childish games

  Enough heard, let the shells yell their plight
  And let the jury of owls prevail upon our night
  There is no cry for justice, only misery on a limb
  The sand storms will bruise the face of the desert
  And the ocean tides will draw fists upon a full moon
  But wait ... just watch the sun quell the cry of crickets
  And the fingers of winter will write warm poems in spring
  Yes, there is laughter left for both of us in the play of time