Every Time

Every time the white grave cloths of winter disappears And seeds in their ressurection rise To wipe the faith of spring clean from winter's tears Hope shines a new sun in my eyes. Every the time the moon grows old, fragmented, and pale I keep my eyes upon the eastern hills Where the new moon turns full face on the sorrowing dale And farm girls laughter from love overspills. Every time the land grows dry and dust dims the blinded sight I see the little cracks in the soil Like vessels set to catch the coming showers with delight And seed again the farmers' toil. Every time nature brings changes to strand the tide of faith I wait patiently the promise That this mortal shall immortal be, for lessons on the slate Of hills, sky and seas speak the certainty of this.