Morning dawns
Spring’s breath has left the buds
to follow her time-worn path
This unbroken line
Back to the cold of winter

New from old
Old to new
With stories on their tongues
And hearts across their sleeves
The ancient women sing

For winters past and coming springs
The whisper of a lover’s game
Under a sun chased moon
To press time westward across the sky

A woman’s breath beneath her hand
The guarded slip of her tongue
Stories played in a hidden heart
while winter sighs around her fire
This aging woman sings

For winters past and coming springs
The whisper of a lover’s game
Under a sun chased moon
To press time westward across the sky
Survivors in unbroken line
Drawn from me to you