Lake Song/New Ceremonial Music For Moms

You stand so far away
Lake's in the distance
Top of bales of hay
Breeze dream clouds thick and white
Kite, wind against the bow
No matter how far we sail.

Bees, leaves, hives go fly with flies
In and out, petals and stems
Stitches and hems, us's and thems.
Collected by friends, and spread amongst the then,
While others seem to pretend that make believe
Is when image left with men is painted with a pen,
And time's left to Big Ben.

Hold back your thought,
Among silence rhythms are taught,
The end of the line, a trout you have caught,
Flipping and sticking to bits of hay,
Slipping in skin, reflecting the day,
It's only a picture, there's not much to say.